


Husband Swap

by ronans



Category: Shameless (US), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, M/M, Reality TV, mentions of bipolar disorder, offensive language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-02-23 13:51:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2549894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronans/pseuds/ronans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wife Swap!... But with a little more testosterone. Specifically a Gallagher-Milkovich-Winchester-Novak mix up.<br/>Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich have finally made their way out of the family home (even if they’re only a few blocks away… What? They kinda like their family) with a six-year-old Yevgeny to take care of. A drunken email to a television network lands them a spot on a one-off special episode, unaware of what exactly they’d gotten themselves into.<br/>Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak have been living together in Pontiac for going on six years with Dean’s son Ben and twin daughters Claire and Emma. In a time where Dean was a little unstable, he figured it would be good for his and Cas’ relationship if they sorted their problems out on national television… while being apart for two weeks. Upon getting the confirmation email, he realises that maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but once a Winchester puts his mind to something, it’s going to get done.</p>
<p>
  <strong>~On hiatus~</strong>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> You know when you start watching crappy TV and imagine multiple OTPs being on the show? Ha, yeah, so this happened. I can't tag this very well for some reason so I'll probably be adding more tags when I think of them.  
> And yep, I know, I write too many fics to do with being on TV...

**_Ian and Mickey_ **

Mickey knows something’s up as soon as he walks in the door. For one, the smell of homemade lasagne – not that store bought shit – instantly reaches his nostrils and two, Yevgeny’s actually sat at the dining table. Upon arriving home from work he’s normally greeted with a yell from Ian, asking him what take-out he wants, and Yevgeny sprawled out on the floor with a piece of Lego sticking out of the side of his mouth as he watches TV.

So, he frowns at the absence of small plastic blocks, steps over one of Yev’s colouring books, and makes his way to the kitchen where Ian’s wearing a fucking _apron_. Something is most definitely up.

‘Uh, hey,’ Mickey says cautiously, eyeing the green mixture bubbling in a saucepan on the stove.

‘Hi!’ Ian replies - _way_ too enthusiastically, if you ask Mickey – and whirls around to face him. He plants a kiss on his cheek which, woah, okay, Mickey wasn’t expecting that on top of all the other strange happenings. Probably wisely, he elects to just ignore the affection and turns to more pressing matters.

‘The hell’s that green shit got to do with lasagne?’ Mickey grunts, briskly tipping his head towards the pan of what actually looks like toxic waste; trust him, he’d know.

Ian grins slightly manically and shrugs. ‘Thought we should have something healthy. It’s blended kale.’

And at that Mickey’s eyebrows sky rocket. ‘The fuck is kale?’

Again, Ian shrugs. ‘Leaves. I assume it’s edible, don’t even know if that’s how you cook it, honestly.’

‘Oh, well if it’s edible!’ Mickey says sarcastically. He grabs a slice of chopped carrot off the counter, stares at it for a while, debating whether or not to eat it, before he just shoves it in his mouth.

Ian slaps him on the arm and turns back to the stove, nibbling his bottom lip. Mickey sighs, gaining Ian’s attention again. ‘What?’

‘Okay, what’s this about, huh? The sit at the table as a family, domestic cooking, fucking apron wearing shit, what is it?’

The redheaded man rolls his eyes and drops into a crouch, opening the door of the oven and pulling out a surprisingly well cooked lasagne. Mickey’s momentarily distracted by how Ian’s jeans cling to his butt a little more tightly as he bends, he just can’t help it.

‘Stop staring at my ass and go lay the table.’

Mickey’s eyebrows shoot up again. ‘Lay the fuckin’ table? Do you even need cutlery to eat lasagne out of a cup?’

‘Shut up, asshole,’ Ian chuckles but there’s still that air of nervousness surrounding him.

‘Ay, don’t think that I’ve dropped the subject. You may think it, but your ass really ain’t that powerful. Can't wipe a dude’s memory.’

At that Ian does laugh but it still comes out stilted. Mickey chooses to avoid the topic until dinner where he’ll have to talk or it’ll be awkward as fuck. For now he’ll stick to following Ian’s orders.

‘Which way does the knife go again?’

Some normality is restored when Ian slips behind Mickey and presses his body against his back. Mickey’s breath hitches slightly. He can feel Ian grinning against his ear as his hand drags down the entire length of Mickey’s arm until it clasps his hand.

‘This… way,’ he murmurs, deliberately slowly and huskily as he flips the knife over on the table. As quickly as he’d plastered himself onto Mickey’s back, he retreats to the kitchen, much to the shorter man’s chagrin.

‘Thanks for that, asshole. Next time, don’t even bother startin’ something you can’t fuckin’ finish.’

‘Yev, cover your ears,’ Ian says to the child who’s still, surprisingly, dutifully sat at the table.

‘Can I just go colour?’

‘Nope, not until you eat all your dinner.’

Mickey’s seriously questioning his sanity because he swears he’s never found that sentence in this context sexy before. He honestly can’t wait for what Ian’s about to say.

‘Fine,’ Yev whines, drawing the word out as long as his breath will allow him. Mickey smirks at him as he dramatically slaps his hands over his ears, just as Ian instructed.

‘I never said I wasn’t gonna finish, Mick. You just need to keep your dick in your pants until the baby’s asleep.’

‘I’m not a baby!’ Yevgeny immediately defends himself and then realises his mistake too late. Ian rounds on him with a mock stern look on his face.

‘I thought I told you to cover your ears so you wouldn’t hear me and your Daddy talking?’

Mickey’s only thought at this point is that Ian was only one wooden spoon and a hair net away from a complete walking stereotype.

‘So _rry_. Don’t blame me though, I asssked to do colouring!’ Mickey couldn’t help but laugh at the kid’s attempt at attitude and that earned, in turn, a one part pissed off two parts amused glare from Ian.

‘Christ, Gallagher, tone the housewife down.’

‘Sor- Shit! The kale!’ Ian hurriedly shifts the kale off the hob and leaves Mickey and Yev staring after him curiously. Bad thoughts flick through Mickey’s brain that this could be the start of another episode, but he doesn’t want to dwell on that idea too much. Ian surely would have told him if he started to feel too manic or had stopped taking his meds… _surely_. Mickey shakes his head and sits at the table just as Ian brings in three plates.

‘Thanks, man.’

‘Thank you, Dad!’ Yev calls out, a little too loudly for Mickey’s tastes, but he lets it slide because at least he was displaying some knowledge of manners for once. The whole night was freaking him out.

Subtlety’s never been the Milkovich way, so Mickey just comes right out and bluntly repeats, ‘Ian, what’s this about?’

‘Can we just at least eat this first?’ Mickey’s about to speak but Ian cuts him off with an imploring ‘Please, Mick.’

‘Fine. Jesus.’

It’s not long before Ian cracks under the uncomfortable silence that’s never normally there at dinner, just as Mickey predicted he would. Ian breathes out and takes a sip of the wine he’d put out – yes, even wine. ‘Mick… Something… Okay, I need to tell you something.’

Mickey cocks an eyebrow and side eyes Yev who’s already got half of his meal on his face. ‘Gallagher, if you’re buttering me up just to tell me you’re cheating on me and leaving with another rich viagroid, shouldn’t the kid go to bed?’

Ian’s and Yev’s expressions completely change to shock on one face and slightly perverse delight on the other.

‘Daddy’s a _cheetah_?’ Yev squealed. ‘Cool!’

‘Yev, n- you- ergh, I don’t- Go wash that shit off your face, ‘kay?’ Mickey suggests, watching as Yevgeny slides out of his chair and toddles off to the bathroom. After a few seconds of silence, Mickey turns to Ian. ‘You think we need to check ‘n see if he’s retarded?’

Ian rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. ‘Mick, please.’

‘I’m serious. All the kid wants to do is colour and he mistakes a fuckin’ ginger alien for a cheetah, like, what the hell?’

‘Mickey,’ Ian warns, battling a smirk. ‘You’re the crazy bastard who fucks the ginger alien. Maybe we should check if _you’re_ retarded, huh?’

‘Yeah, alright, touché, now spill.’

Ian lets out another sigh and shifts in his seat, studying the table cloth – _when the fuck did they get a table cloth?_ – and avoiding the darker haired man’s eyes.

‘Ian, c’mon.’

‘Okay… Remember when I was _really_ , really drunk the other month?’

Mickey starts laughing quietly as memories suddenly flood back. ‘Wasted Wednesday, as you called it? Yeah, I remember.’

Ian lets out a groan and shakes his head. ‘And the meds only made the hangover worse.’

‘You get what’s comin’ to ya, you drank the whole Alibi dry, now come on, does this have a purpose?’

‘Yes, Mick, it has a purpose.’ Ian pauses to scratch an invisible itch at the back of his head, pondering Mickey’s reaction. ‘Okay… Alright. So when you went to sleep, I guess I must’ve gone on the laptop and emailed… a place.’

‘Oh shit, you didn’t order anything _illegal_ , did you?’ Mickey asks in a mock outraged voice.

‘Fuck off. No, I didn’t, but I think you’d prefer it if I did.’

‘You think I’d actually even care if you did? Did you not see the inside of my childhood home?’

‘Mickey, can we not focus on illegal things right now?’

‘Jeez, alright. Christ, what’s up with you? You’re not… ya know…’

‘No! Fuck, Mickey! This has nothing to do with… No! I just told you, this happened _months_ ago! It’s got nothing to do with any of that.’

‘Okay! I was just askin’, can’t hurt. Don’t bite my goddamn head off for being concerned.’

Ian’s hard gaze becomes softer because he knows Mickey cares about him and wants him to be okay, but he can’t help being defensive. He hates feeling like he can’t look after himself, like he’s hopeless.

‘It’s not about that, I promise,’ he says more quietly, reaching over the table to grab Mickey’s hand. Mickey, somewhat reluctantly, clasps it back.

‘Okay, I believe y- Shit, Yev, how long you been standing there?’

Yevgeny stands in the doorway watching his parents interact while wringing his hands. Mickey pushes away from the table to go over to him, ducking down and placing a hand on his shoulder, steering him towards his bedroom and leaving Ian in the dining room.

‘Hey, look, me ‘n your Dad have to sort something out, okay? So you good to get an early night or something?’

‘Okay,’ Yevgeny mumbles, still nervously squeezing his hands.

‘What’s gotten into you? You were bubbly as hell earlier.’

‘Are you guys gonna break up?’

Mickey frowns and watches as Yev climbs into bed. ‘What? Where’d you get that idea?’

He shrugs and starts playing with a loose thread on his covers. ‘You were fighting.’

‘Nah, we weren’t fighting, we were just trying to get something straight. And he was gonna tell me what all this fancy meal crap was about, I know you were freaked out by that too,’ Mickey quickly soothes, walking over to his son’s bed and rearranging the covers around him more securely.

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah, don’t worry about it.’

Yevgeny suddenly breaks out into a grin and grabs Mickey’s hand, playing with his fingers. ‘Good, ‘cause I didn’t wanna have’ta hit you.’

Mickey’s features freeze and he’s not sure whether he should be laughing or concerned. ‘Er, good… good. Look, you get to sleep, okay? I’m gonna finish talking with Ian.’

Yev nods and hurriedly burrows into his pillows to which Mickey does let out a chuckle and affectionately ruffles his hair, swiftly leaning in to kiss his forehead. ‘Night, buddy.’

‘Night, Daddy.’

He’s always struck with how weird it is that he does the whole parent thing now. He shakes his head and gets up, turning around to see Ian leaning against the door frame with a soft smile on his face. Mickey bites his lip as he leaves the room and feels Ian following him back to the table.

‘You’re so good with him,’ Ian comments, the smile still on his face.

‘Yeah, whatever, now are you gonna finally tell me what’s going on?’ Mickey asks, getting right back on topic.

Ian lets out a long sigh and wow, second glass of wine. Mickey feels himself grow more and more nervous about what he’s going to tell him. ‘We’re gonna be on TV.’

Not _exactly_ what Mickey was expecting. ‘Huh?’

‘I sent an application email to a network about this one-off special thing and… we’re gonna be on TV.’

‘TV…’

‘Yes!’ Ian groans, the wine sloshing around in his glass as he refills it. Mickey sighs and leans forward, righting the bottle before the glass can overflow.

‘What show?’

Ian lifts his eyes to meet Mickey’s. ‘You’re calm about this? I thought you’d flip the fuck out!’

Mickey shrugs and he’s not sure whether he does it to make Ian freak out more or because he’s genuinely pretty cool about it. Ian shakes his head and swivels around in his chair to reach for the pack of cigarettes he’d thrown on the side table they used mostly as a dumping ground for useless shit like keys to nowhere and old receipts.

‘Can we go and…’ Ian trails off, waving the packet around to finish the end of the sentence. Mickey grins and nods.

‘Thought you’d never ask.’

Ian rolls his eyes but he still looks a little on edge, a cigarette already dangling from his lips. They end up on the steps outside their backdoor with the view of their shoe box garden. Ian’s quick to light up and offers another smoke to Mickey which he readily accepts.

‘Why’d you get so worked up over this?’

‘I dunno… I guess I felt like you’d… I dunno.’

‘You do know, Gallagher, you just think I’m gonna go ape shit over this as well. Surprise! I’m not fuckin’ gonna.’

In a tick Mickey’s sure he picked up from him, Ian rubs his thumb over his bottom lip with the same hand holding the cigarette and exhales a plume of smoke. ‘I just remember when we had to be so careful about people finding out and how you used to feel.’

Mickey purses his lips and takes a long drag, filling his lungs to keep himself from spitting out something he’d regret. He wants to remind him that he’s not like that anymore, but he knows Ian’s concerns are valid. Ian lets out a humourless snigger.

‘Fucking TV… what the hell was I thinking?’

‘You weren’t thinking, dipshit,’ Mickey chuckles, nudging Ian’s shoulder with his own. At least it coaxes a small smile out of him.

‘It’s a show called Wife Swap.’

Mickey turns to Ian with his trade mark eyebrow raise. ‘” _It’s a show called Wife Swap_ ”, I know what fuckin’ Wife Swap is, but I dunno if you’ve noticed but we’re not married and, last I checked, neither of us has a fucking vagina.’

‘No shit, Mickey! Hence why I said it was a one-off special.’

They simultaneously stub out their cigarettes and huddle a little closer together as a sudden biting wind whips past them. The world seems entirely too quiet and Mickey vaguely remembers joking with Ian about sitting and watching the stars. He doesn’t seem to care about the idea of that now as they’re both looking up at the sky and wondering when sharing things with each other became so damn terrifying.

 

 

 

**_Dean and Cas_ **

Dean’s fruitlessly trying to scrub the grease from under his fingernails when his phone alerts him that he’s got an email. He lifts an eyebrow slightly disinterestedly but finishes up, resigning himself to having unclean nails. The tap squeaks as he turns it off and reminds him of the silence around him. Normally, quiet wasn’t even considered a possibility in the Winchester-Novak household. The twins would constantly be screaming for attention from either of their fathers and then there was Ben’s game system that wouldn’t cease with the goddamn gunfire or crappy 8-bit music. And Cas. Cas who would play his stupid, angelic classical music or Johnny Cash at full volume to combat the noise the children emitted.

Dean sighs and drags a hand down his face but instantly cringes when he realises his hands are still wet. He takes the towel with him from the en suite and into his and Cas’ bedroom where he’d previously thrown his phone on the bedside table.

As soon as he reads the ‘ _Congratulations you’ve been accepted to…_ ’, he knows exactly what the message is about.

‘Son of a bitch,’ he mutters, eyes scanning over the full email. He’d never thought for a second that he’d be accepted to be on the show, and now he didn’t actually _want_ to be on it.

Then his mind focuses on Cas and how he never even consulted him about the idea. Well, he’d been acting a little weird around the time he sent in the application because, for some reason, he’d freaked out over Lisa’s re-marriage. It all seems so ridiculous to him now, but here he is, staring down at the cracked screen of his phone and thinking about how the hell he’s going to bring this up to his husband.

‘Fuck.’

Things feel a little more normal when he hears the front door burst open and multiple voices filter up the stairs. He can vaguely hear Ben alerting Cas that he’s going to his room. Dean decides to catch him before he disappears for the rest of the night.

‘Ben! Good day at school?’

His son shrugs and bounces his back off the wall repeatedly, evidently impatient to retreat to his room. ‘It was okay. Glad the year’s nearly over though, I don’t like my English teacher.’

Dean smiles at him and ruffles his hair but Ben’s growing up and going through that same phase Sam did when it’s _definitely not cool_ to do that. He, somewhat politely, shrugs him off and sends one last parting smile Dean’s way before backing into his room. Dean sighs sadly and makes his way downstairs, foreseeing that he’s not going to be able to get a chance to talk to Cas until much later on.

*

‘You _still_ not tired?’ Dean asks the toddler incredulously. He knows that _he_ is and that he’s been gripping the same storybook in his hand for the past half hour, trying to send his daughter to sleep. To no avail, obviously, as she’s shaking her head and giggling. ‘How about I sing to you?’

‘Yeah!’

‘Okay, okay,’ he sighs, snapping the cardboard pages of the book shut. He racks his brain for a child-friendly song to sing and then begins softly crooning the melody to Hey Jude, because he’s sentimental and has fond memories of that song putting him to sleep when he was Emma’s age. He thinks he can hear Cas doing the same thing in the next room with Claire and he lets himself smile.

‘There, all done, why the hell aren’t you asleep?’ he chuckles, leaning in to tickle her sides.

‘ _No_ ,’ she whines through a giggle, batting her father’s hands away. He relents and grins down at her.

‘You gonna go to sleep now?’ He lifts an eyebrow sternly, but it’s completely combatted by his easy smile.

‘Okay,’ she laments, rolling over and facing her wall. Dean laughs again and gives her a series of kisses on her hair, making her start to giggle again. He freaking loves her laugh, and it’s one thousand times better than her crying. He’d actually give his left arm for all the crying episodes to be replaced with laughing ones.

‘Night, sweetheart.’

‘G’night,’ she sighs, dreamily. Inside, Dean’s screaming with joy because she _finally_ sounds tired and like she’s gonna be out for the night. He pats her head one last time before standing up and leaving the room, making sure her blue nightlight’s on.

He decides that he’s avoided the problem of sharing with Cas the contents of the email long enough and joins him in the kitchen where he’s leaning over the sink. 

‘Hey.’

Cas glances up and smiles. ‘Hi. You get Emma to sleep?’

‘Yeah, finally. Why’s Claire so much easier?’

The other man lets out a snort and shakes his head. ‘You are so wrong. Just wait ten minutes and I’ll have to go back in there and read the first chapter of The Philosophers Stone _again_.’

‘A three year old and Harry Potter? Little advanced, don’t ya think?’ Dean comments with a puckered brow. He’d been reading Emma a book – a _cardboard_ book - about the damn alphabet.

Castiel shrugs. ‘She’s got to start somewhere. I think it will be beneficial for her learning development.’

‘Whatever you say,’ Dean huffs, and he can’t help but feel a little inadequate. He waits for a few beats before bringing up the topic he’d wanted to open with. ‘Hey… Remember when I said I wanted to, uh, Jesus Christ… _find myself_?’ Dean scrunches his eyes shut.

‘Um, yeah, I remember. Why?’ Cas asks, throwing the dishtowel he’d been using to dry the glassware over his shoulder. He stares at Dean inquisitively, waiting for his reply.

‘Okay, well, I kind of… During that time I kinda…’

Cas simply raises an eyebrow, growing a little impatient. ‘You kinda wanted a lot more sex all of a sudden? Yeah, I remember that.’

Dean swallows heavily and nods jerkily. ‘Ah, hah, yes, that was a… That was a time. Um, but the thing is, it’s not that thing, it’s anoth- I think we need to work on our… communication.’

Cas’ expression hasn’t changed, and for once Dean really hates how he can almost feel Castiel’s gaze routing around in his soul. ‘I don’t understand, I tell you everything you need to know.’

‘Yeah but… _I_ don’t. Do I?’

Cas frowns and crosses his legs at the ankles, hips resting against the kitchen counter and Dean thinks he really could watch Cas forever. ‘I suppose… Why, where’s this coming from?’

‘Well, before you got back, I got an email. Ya know emails, Cas? Those things that-‘

‘Just because I refuse to own a smart phone, Dean, it does not mean that I am completely incompetent with _everything_ technology related. I send you emails.’

Dean rolls his eyes. ‘Whatever, Cas, this isn’t impo- Look, we may be going on a TV show.’

Dean swears he can hear a grasshopper somewhere at the other end of the lawn, it’s _that_ quiet. Cas staring at him with that damn confused expression like Dean’s a puzzle that he can never work out. ‘My silence is your cue… Your cue to respond… Cas… Castiel… You- Quit fucking with me, dude, what do you think?’

Castiel finally lets out a small Cas-chuckle. ‘Right, sorry. I just enjoy your worried expression when it’s worrying over something irrational.’

‘Your humour’s warped, man.’

He shrugs and turns around, resuming his task of drying the dishes. ‘When you say that we _may_ be on a TV show, you mean we’re _definitely_ going to be on one, don’t you?’

‘Yeah. Okay, yes, we are, and I didn’t tell you when I applied for it, so what? Are you gonna-‘

‘Dean,’ Cas calmly interrupts, putting down the piece of glass he’d been drying for a second time. ‘I agree, we do need to work on our communication. I don’t understand why _this_ would help us, but if this is how you feel then of course I’m open to it.’

Dean scratches the back of his neck and looks up at Cas shyly. ‘I-‘ He’s interrupted by a loud wail coming from the direction of Claire’s room. ‘Dammit. Nah, don’t worry, Cas, I’ll do it.’ He smiles weakly at his husband and strides out of the room, destination Small Child No. 2’s room. Well, at least everything was out in the open.


	2. Week 1, Day 1

**_Ian and Cas_ **

Ian has to think to himself when the limo pulls up to his house that this was probably the reason why drunk Ian applied to do the swap. The cameras the crew were using were spectacularly low budget, so he had an idea what the main bulk of the money was being blown on.

‘Nice wheels, you’re _totally_ not gonna get shanked driving around the South Side in _that_ ,’ Mickey comments dryly, sidling up to Ian as he stands by the front room window.

‘Shut up, you’re just jealous because I’m leaving and you have to stay in this dump.’

‘ _Our_ dump, actually,’ Mickey corrects, roughly shoving him with a smile on his face. Ian pushes him back but his attention is again drawn to the car outside.

‘I’m gonna miss you, Mick.’

Mickey nervously shuffles his feet and rubs at his mouth. ‘Yeah, I’ll… I’ll miss you too.’

Ian feels his face split into a grin and warmth build in his chest. He grabs onto Mickey’s hand without looking at him and continues to stare out the window.

‘Screw it,’ he hears Mickey murmur before he’s turned around and lips are pressed on his. Ian sinks into it and finds himself burying his hands in Mickey’s hair and moving in closer to him. Mickey’s gripping onto his waist just as tightly.

‘It’s only two weeks,’ Ian mumbles against Mickey’s lips.

‘I know but it fucking sucks. I’m gonna be stuck with an old dude, knowing you,’ Mickey replies, ending the kiss and instead pulling Ian in for a tight hug.

Ian chuckles and slips his arms around Mickey’s shoulders, holding him in place. He’s not used to this much affection from Mickey at once, aside from when they’re having sex, but he loves it and is grateful to be able to cling on to him.

Saying goodbye to Yevgeny is a lot more painful, purely because he’s on the verge of a tantrum when Ian approaches him. Ian shoots a “good luck, you’re gonna be left to deal with this” look at Mickey before attempting to say goodbye and gingerly picking the boy up, cuddling him. Yev squirms the entire time and actually appears to be offended.

‘Just _go_!’ he yells.

Ian frowns and pulls Yev away so he’s able to look in his eyes. ‘Are you gonna miss me?’

‘If you’re gonna go, go!’ he says more quietly, pouting and crossing his arms over his chest. Ian’s frown only deepens and he gently places him back down on the floor and pats his head.

‘I’ll be home soon, it’ll go by really quickly, I promise,’ Ian reassures, glancing back at Mickey who’s hovering by the front door, ready for the formal fit-for-television goodbye.

He can already picture how they’ll cheesily edit this, but he steps outside to where the camera guy is and brings Mickey into another hug and then draws back to kiss him. He can feel how tense Mickey is under his fingers, but he knows it’s only because of the years he’s had to keep the PDA under wraps.

‘I’ll be back soon,’ he adds with a grin, waving as he makes his way down the pothole-ridden path and into the car. His bags are already packed in the trunk, so all that’s left to do is shoot one last awkward wave Mickey’s way and settle in for the journey.

The drive takes almost two hours and the entire time Ian has his fingers in his mouth, chewing his nails. He’s not nervous, as such, he’s just… wary of a new environment and of leaving Mickey and Yevgeny. Every now and then he’ll glance out the back window at the car that’s been following for the entire ride; the car with all the camera equipment. Ian bites even harder at his nails, thinking about how his every move is going to be filmed and how he’s going to come across. Eventually, he gives up and resigns himself to just keep breathing deeply in and out.

When the car pulls up outside the house, he’s kind of shocked at how big it is. It’s not exactly _huge_ , but compared to Ian and Mickey’s place, it’s practically a mansion. They’d worked hard to get their own house for their little family, but it was still pretty damn small.

‘Hm… Nice,’ he murmurs, before stepping out of the car and sauntering over to the boot to pick up his bags. He’d packed pretty lightly, figuring it wouldn’t really matter if he wore the same shirt a few times.

The hallway isn’t very spacious, but he still dumps his bags there and then, as instructed, moves into the dining room where a folder had been placed on the table. He doesn’t really have time to take in his surroundings before he’s told to open up the pack and read. Ian clears his throat before speaking and begins to feel nervous, aware of the fact that he’s being filmed.

‘ _Welcome to Pontiac, I guess. My name’s Dean Winchester, I’m 34 and I enjoy long walks on the- Cas told me not to write the rest of that sentence, so I’m gonna just get on with this…_ ’ Ian laughs and shakes his head. ‘Dude, you are so whipped.’

‘ _I work as a mechanic at Winchester and Singer Auto, and, as you probably guessed, I’m the co-owner with this cranky old guy Bobby. When you have to go to work there, don’t worry about it, Bobby’ll show you the ropes, he’s sort of a softie. And it’s not like he’s gonna let some random dude jump straight into running the joint, so, yeah… Just don’t worry about it_.

‘ _I have a fourteen-year-old son, Ben_ \- a teenager, great - _who’s from a previous relationship. Although I like to think we’re pretty close, I feel we used to be even closer when he was younger. I don’t know whether that’s to do with the split and how as he’s grown up he’s understood it more and maybe even resented me a little, but he’s always been incredibly accepting of my new relationship with Castiel and even calls him “Dad”_.’ Ian smiles at this. ‘ _There are also the twins, Claire and Emma, who are almost four_ \- three year olds, I can deal with three year olds. - _They’re normally entirely too sweet for their own good but can be complete nightmares if they don’t get what they want or don’t know where at least one of their parents are – Cas and I struggle with this, not really knowing what to do_.’

Ian nods to himself, thinking about some of Yevgeny’s tantrums he and Mickey have had to deal with in the past. He inwardly shudders and mourns for the chunk of his hair the kid had ripped out of his scalp on his last rampage. Oh yeah, he definitely took after his father; it was only a matter of time before his mother’s genetics kicked in too and he’d be using a claw hammer. Ian shakes himself out of that scary train of thought and reads onto the next paragraph, clearing his throat and anxiously glancing up at the camera pointed at him. _Why in the hell did he sign up for this again?_ Oh yeah, he was drunk out of his mind.

‘ _Cas and I have been married for four years and together for six. I love Cas but I often have trouble expressing how I feel_ – oh my god, that’s got Mickey written all over it,’ Ian comments, chuckling to himself, imagining the hilarity of the two emotionally stunted individuals trying to interact and better one another for their partners. ‘ _I’m hoping that being away from him will help me really appreciate him and be able to say how I feel without holding back_.’ It feels like he’s looking into Mickey’s mind as he reads Dean’s words and he can’t help but smile sadly at how it resonates with him. He knows Mickey loves him and he’s grown to become lot better, but, as he’s said before, he can’t blurt out how he feels all the time.

‘ _I hope this swap will improve our home life, it’s pretty damn great but, as everything does, it has its flaws. Anyway, I guess that’s it…_ ’ Ian flips the page over with a frown, looking for more text, but snorts when he finds that, yeah, that’s where Dean’s left it. ‘Alright.’

‘Walk around the house and I’ll film it,’ the guy opposite Ian directs vaguely. Ian purses his lips and gets up awkwardly, glancing around before deciding to just go where his feet take him. He ends up in a small laundry room which isn’t exactly the most thrilling place to start, but it’s something.

‘Washing machine, dryer, drying rack, unwashed clothes,’ he runs off, before turning on his heel and making his way into the kitchen. It’s pretty standard but the fixtures are of a higher budget than his and Mickey’s. ‘Auto repair can’t pay that much, can it?’

‘Other dude’s sold a bunch of books or something,’ the guy manning the camera comments, panning around the room.

‘Right.’

Ian turns his gaze to the window that stretches along the back wall, overlooking the substantial garden. It’s equipped with a swing set and a rather run-down looking shed. Ian kind of wishes he could provide Yevgeny with a garden like that and that he could have grown up in a better living environment. But he knows they’ve given him love and brought him up far better than their own parents.

The rest of the tour is pretty normal, and Ian doesn’t really take anything in in too much detail, except when he reaches what must have been Dean and Castiel’s bedroom, because there’s something that looks too much like a sex toy than anything else peeking out from the ajar wardrobe door. Ian smirks and subtly nudges it closed before the camera can pick up on it.

Their home is comfortable and looks lived in, with some children’s toys scattered around and happy family photos adorning a few walls. Ian _thinks_ he can safely say that this Cas isn’t going to be a stuck up asshole, but he’s been wrong before.

Camera guy (who Ian, for the fifth time, has forgotten the name of) looks at his watch. ‘Uh, they’re due back in like a couple minutes, so… like…’

‘I should stop snooping, gotcha.’ Ian smiles tightly and takes his time in walking back into the main hallway, mostly to piss the nervous guy off. He kind of hates the fact that his television debut is going to be on a show that can’t even afford to hire a proper sound man.

The noise of the front door unlocking spikes his nerves and he’s soon met with the sight of four people bustling in. Castiel’s quite tall and is wearing a tan trench coat over dark jeans and a shirt, looking pretty formal, while the kids all look overly casual - boarding on _Mickey_ casual. Probably Dean’s input.

‘Hey, I’m Ian. Ian Gallagher,’ he greets, extending his hand for Castiel to shake with his spare one.

‘Hello, I’m Castiel, but you may call me Cas,’ Cas responds simply, staring at Ian’s outstretched hand in confusion, a frown etched on his features. Ian lifts his eyebrows and gradually retracts it.

‘O…kay,’ he hums, slipping his hands into his back pockets and flicks his eyes around the hallway uncomfortably. Soon, he feels a little tug at the leg of his jeans.

‘Eeeyahn.’

Ian laughs and bends down so he’s practically level with the child. ‘Hey there, what’s your name?’

‘Emma,’ she answers with a huge grin and Ian already feels himself growing fond of her.

‘Hey, Emma.’

‘I’m Claire!’ the girl in Castiel’s arms shrieks, effectively snatching Ian’s attention away from Emma while simultaneously causing her father to wince.

‘Claire, you shouldn’t yell,’ Castiel chastises calmly, looking her seriously in the eyes. Ian thinks it’s quite a mature look directed at someone so young, but he figures if he said that out loud it would just sound weird and would also be like overstepping some unspoken line. He could address that in the second week, he supposes.

‘Nah, it’s okay. I’m used to loud – I come from a family of six. Quiet’s not really an option, especially with a killer Carl on the loose.’ Ian always grins when he thinks of how accurate putting “killer” in front of his brother’s name in an introduction is. But, of course, seeing as Castiel doesn’t know anything about Ian, the joke flies right over his head.

‘I’m sorry, are you suggesting my daughter is a murderer? And her name’s Claire.’ Castiel’s frown is innocent and spawned out of genuine confusion. Ian squints back at Castiel, slightly disbelieving at how he came to that conclusion.

‘Uh… no?’ He then hurries to completely explain himself. ‘My brother’s called Carl and he has a bit of a reputation.’

Castiel’s jaw drop and even more intense squint ispretty hilarious to Ian but he’s distracted from it when one of the kids shakes his head and steps out from behind his parent.

‘Cas is a social spaz,’ the boy, who must have been Ben, states with a sigh. Ian bites the inside of his cheek in response to Ben’s wording and holds out a hand for the teenager to shake which he, thankfully, takes.

‘Hey, Ben.’

‘Hi, Ian.’

Ian never expected in a million years it would be this awkward. He was a bartender, for fuck’s sake, he had to socialise all the damn time and yet _here_ he feels so socially awkward he can’t help but already dread the following two weeks.

After a while Ben makes an impatient noise and runs up the stairs. Soon the sounds of a video game filter down the stairs and Ian’s left fidgeting, thinking of what to say to Castiel who seems completely indifferent to the situation.

‘Would you like a tour?’ Cas offers, hoisting Claire back up on his hip from where she’d slipped down.

‘Uh, actually I’ve already had a look around, but it’d be great to know where I’m sleeping.’

‘In the bed with me.’

It’s a tense silence where Ian’s not entirely sure whether or not Cas is joking. His straight face and monotone voice suggests he’s not but… yeah, Ian really fucking hopes he’s kidding.

‘You’re… you’re just… kidding… right?’

Castiel’s expression remains neutral, so Ian’s just about ready to bolt, but Cas luckily breaks out in a grin. ‘Of course. I’ll show you to the spare room. Emma, Claire? You’ll be okay while I show Ian to his room?’

Both of the children nod solemnly and Castiel places Claire next to Emma or the floor, gesturing for Ian to follow him upstairs. Why does it feel like he’s walking to his death?

‘Can you cook? Dean usually cooks, is quite passionate about it, really.’

‘Sorta,’ Ian coughs, hiding his wince; the extent of his cooking skills was usually shoving pizza bagels in the oven and flipping pancakes, but his lasagne had gone done pretty well.   _Wing it_.

‘Great! Here,’ Cas announces, gesturing to the closed door directly across the hall from his own room. Ian nods slowly, remembering it being medium sized with the walls painted a calming blue colour.

‘Uhm, thanks.’

Castiel’s staring. Castiel _won’t stop staring at him_.

‘Is there something on my face?’ Ian can’t help but ask, for once hoping there actually is.

The squint returns, intensifying the stare. ‘No. You just have interesting features.’

Ian smiles tightly, matching Castiel’s look. He really hopes this is just Cas’ fucking weird sense of humour rearing its head again. Hopes. And prays.

 

**_Dean and Mickey_ **

‘So I guess this is goodbye for two weeks,’ Dean murmurs into Cas’ neck, attempting to block out the gagging noises Ben is making just for show.

‘I guess so,’ Cas murmurs back, clinging on tighter. They don’t really want to let go but a toddler whining about how they’re not getting enough attention gets pretty hard to ignore after a while. So they do eventually part with a last short peck on the lips. ‘I’ll miss you, Dean.’

‘I’ll miss ya too, Cas.’

‘ _Dad, just say bye and pick up the goddamn kid_!’ Ben hisses, looking like he actually wants to strangle either Claire or Emma or both.

‘Watch your language,’ Dean responds, mostly for the camera. And he really doesn’t seem to get the memo that you’re supposed to look anywhere _but_ the cameras when filming because he keeps glancing at them after saying each sentence.

In the end it’s Castiel who bends down to pick up Claire and pass her to Dean. He smiles at her but she’s wearing a sad pout.

‘You gonna be okay without me, Claire Bear?’ Dean asks, rocking her from side to side and trying to catch her gaze. She shakes her head roughly. Dean chuckles and plants a kiss on the top of her head, handing her back to Cas. ‘You won’t even know I’m gone.’

‘I’m breaking the rules and calling you if she’s screaming for more than seventy two percent of the time,’ Cas mumbles.

‘Em!’ Dean calls with a grin, crouching to draw her into a cuddle. She fights it at first, because that’s just Emma, but eventually she clings on to Dean’s neck and nuzzles into his shoulder. ‘You’re tough, you’ll be fine,’ he concedes, eventually letting her go with a matching kiss on top of her head.

Finally he turns to Ben who’s wearing a disinterested expression. Dean looks harder though and can see the anxious glint in Ben’s eyes. He bets he’s been silently cursing Dean’s previous weird mind set for getting them into this ever since he found out about it.

‘Bye, Dad,’ Ben says with a small smile. Dean hooks Ben in with an arm around his neck. He knows Ben’s embarrassed, and there’s totally nothing manly about a father kissing his son’s forehead and following that up with a hug, but he doesn’t care. He’s gonna miss him, even if he’s been a little too teenager-y of late.

‘Bye, Ben, don’t forget me,’ he whispers tearfully. Ben laughs and thumps Dean in the stomach, making him snigger.

‘You wish. Have fun with your new husband.’

Dean frowns and pushes Ben away, trading him with Cas. ‘Sorry, Cas is kind of a fixture, I’m not replacing him that easily.’

Castiel rolls his eyes and shoves Dean’s hip. ‘The car’s waiting, you should make your way down there.’

‘Yeah, I guess so…’

‘Dad, just go, oh man,’ Ben grumbles, tugging on Dean’s jacket.

‘Alright, alright!’ Dean grouches, dragging his feet dramatically as he makes his way out of the house. ‘Tell Sam he’s a bitch for not seeing me off, ‘kay?’

Castiel grins and shakes his head but agrees anyway. ‘Fine.’

With one last smile, Dean disappears into the entirely unnecessary limo and lets out a long exhale, readying himself for whatever’s going to happen in the time he’s away from his family while he’s thrown into a new one.

*

When Dean’s car pulls into the street, he’s instantly reminded of his second childhood home, the one his father set them up in after the first one burned down. It’s a bitter memory and brings back bad thoughts of being alone and carrying the burden of more responsibility than a growing child should ever have to deal with. He tries to think back to the happier memories in the house though - memories shared with Sam - in order to even bring himself to step out of the car.

Eventually he does, and he’s instructed to just pick up his bags and walk up to the house after sharing his initial thoughts on it – basically a less emotional version of his inner monologue.

He ditches his luggage on the sofa as it’s the first thing he sees when he enters. He can smell something that’s not entirely unpleasant, but still slightly weird, and he can’t quite place it. Dean scowls in concentration but soon gets an odd look from the cameraman, so he decides to just drop it and make his way over to the slim folder on the dining room table.

 _That’s fucking barbeque sauce and Drakkar Noir is what it is_.

Dean lets out a long exhale and then clears his throat, rolling up his sleeves. He’s gonna be professional about this and gear himself up for it because everyone knows that if his sleeves are rolled up he means business. He’s going to get this shit done and make it through the two weeks even if it entails hiding behind a hefty amount of bravado. The camera guy - the _only other guy in the house and holy fuck is it awkward_ \- motions for Dean to start reading.

‘ _I’m Ian Gallagher, 23, and I live with my boyfriend Mickey. He likes to think we can’t pinpoint exactly how long we’ve been together, but I’ll say it’s been about eight years._ Jeez, kid’s like a friggin’ decade younger than me and has held down a longer relationship than I’ve _ever_ had,’ Dean quips, somewhat bitterly. He wishes he’d found Cas sooner, he’s always said that, but now Ian and Mickey breeze in with their eight year long romance and damn, Dean can’t see that as anything other than showing off. Yeah, he knows he’s a child. He quickly flushes his mind of ridiculous thoughts and reads on, never forgetting that the camera was tracking everything. ‘ _We haven’t had an easy life, both growing up dirt poor here in the South Side of Chicago. I don’t want to sound like I want your pity, I’m just trying to give you the whole picture here. People haven’t always been accepting of us, obviously, but I’ve had the support of my five siblings who I’m quite close to, although sometimes our problems can kinda sit on the back burner – perks of being part of a big family, right_? Wow, five? I can barely handle just one Sammy. But five… Huh.’ Dean juts his bottom lip out and nods, scanning over the last sentence again. ‘ _Mickey’s also only really in contact with his sister (and my best friend) Mandy who comes over to babysit Yev whenever we’re both out._ Okay, who’s Yev?’ Dean mumbles, frowning.

‘ _Yevgeny – or Yev – is our son and he’s six. We love him even if he can be a complete asshole when he wants to be. But he’s mostly adorable… and also evil…_ ’ Dean’s totally looking forward to being in the mere presence of this delightful Russian(?) Hell spawn. No, really. He is. ‘ _He’s Mickey’s biological son and how he came into the world is not really a pretty story so we’ll just gloss over that_. Not like I really wanted to know anyway,’ Dean mutters around a cough.

‘ _I have Bipolar disorder. It’s been really hard for both of us over the years since I’ve been diagnosed, but Mickey’s been so amazing in making sure I keep up with my meds and that I’m looked after, even if I can’t fully appreciate it. I think with this two week break he won’t know what to do with himself he’s been looking after me for so long. He may look a bit rough but he’s incredibly loyal to those he cares about. It might take a while for you to see that side of him, though (he’s not great with strangers)._ ’ Dean lets out a little laugh at this, picturing Mickey as this tough prison inmate with a tattooed face and bulging muscles waiting on Ian. Having not had any personal connections with Bipolar disorder, Dean struggles to relate, or even react, to the situation.

‘ _Anyway, onto the other stuff. My job will probably be a little difficult for you – I’ll leave Mickey to tell you exactly what it is. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, not everyone’s happy with it or accepting, but it pays well and I enjoy it enough of the time._ Shit, he’s not a stripper is he?’ Dean asks worriedly. He looks up at the guy manning the camera but he doesn’t give anything away, just stares blankly at his monitors. Dean shrugs to himself and flicks his eyes back down to the page.

‘ _Chores… there aren’t any, really. I just kinda pick up stuff after Yevgeny destroys it, basically. But Mickey knows how to use the dishwasher so… there’s that._ ’ Dean cocks an eyebrow. ‘ _We’re not active with control over the house_. Not sure what that means, but okay.’

Dean breathes out slowly as he reads in his head the little “ _Good luck!_ ” that Ian had obviously scrawled at the bottom in a hurry after he’d printed the page out.

‘Cut, okay, just… look around the house now and I’ll follow you, I guess… I’ll call Dave to help out too,’ the guy says, stunning Dean yet again with the sheer amount of professionalism the production team lacks. Plus, who the fuck is Dave? No explanation given whatsoever.

But Dean takes up with the suggestion and pushes away from the slightly cluttered dining table. He thinks about where to start before just going through the archway ahead of him. He’s ended up in a kitchen with pretty limited fixtures, a beaten up refrigerator and a coffee machine that… well, can he really call it a machine? It just looks like a warped lump of white plastic surrounding a cracked jug. He shakes himself out of thinking about the appliance and rakes his eyes over the counters.

He soon discovers that the house doesn’t have an upstairs so he just ambles through the bungalow, peering into each room and uneasily eyeing the cheap sofa bed that’s been set up in, what looks like, the office. ‘Hell back pain,’ Dean whispers as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

Other than the shitty prospect of sleeping on the couch, Dean’s taken pretty well to the place, liking the muted colour scheme and odd personal touch through the clutter. It’s obvious that it’s a home and not just a house and he’s almost stumbled over more comic and colouring books than he can count. He also felt quite amused at the sheer amount of glittery booty shorts that were folded up in the chest of drawers in the main bedroom. Lo and behold, he also spots a sizable bottle of cologne with a note attached that he furtively peers at. It’s from a guy called Jimmy and Dean doesn’t know if it’s Ian and Mickey’s weird role play grooming thing where they buy each other things under a different name, or if there’s actually a dude out there called Jimmy trying to buy his way into Ian’s pants. He guesses he’s thinking into it too much and drops it, the scent clogging in his throat.

He lets out a long breath and quickly glances around the living room. ‘So… They gonna be here soon or…?’

The man filming him nods. ‘Perfect timing, really. They’re due back in a few minutes.’

Dean inclines his head and decides to just sit it out on the sofa. Soon enough he can hear a key turning in the lock and he practically leaps up off the couch in anticipation. In walks in a guy, who’s way shorter than he imagined, and who must be Mickey or Dean would be pretty concerned. Toddling in after him is a seriously cute six-year-old Yevgeny. Dean smiles over at them as Mickey lifts his head and then dips it a little in acknowledgement… Then comes Yev.

The first thing the little boy says to Dean is: ‘T’fuck are you?’

‘Oh my god, Yev,’ Mickey groans, covering his eyes with one hand. ‘Of all the times you choose to copy me and it’s _now_?’

Yevgeny grins a gummy smile up at his father while Dean’s smile’s become slightly more forced and nervous.

‘Uh, hey?’

Mickey removes his hand then to reveal his clear blue eyes. Dean can admit he’s attractive and notes that both he and Ian have the same sort of type; dark hair and blue eyes. Though he can’t help but want to smirk at Mickey’s height.

‘Hey… You got somethin’ to say?’ Mickey demands suddenly, his gaze hard and calculating as he scans Dean’s face. Dean suddenly realises, embarrassed, that he’d been staring and Mickey’s clearly a paranoid son of a bitch.

‘What? Nah, man.’

‘Good. So you Dean, huh?’

Dean nods slowly and extends a hand for Mickey to shake. He momentarily links Mickey’s rejection of the handshake to Castiel but then realises that Cas can simply be adorably socially inept at times and Mickey is just damn… _hostile_. Impolite on purpose and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Well, that isn’t Dean’s problem... Except it kind of is now, which irks him.

‘Okie dokie,’ Dean says in acceptance, barely supressing a smirk; he loved saying that.

‘You sound like a douchebag, man, don’t say that,’ Mickey replies. Dean doesn’t think they’re really familiar enough to call one another out on which behaviours annoy the other, but whatever, he’ll get over it. This is Mickey’s turn, he has to remind himself. If he can just hold in any feelings this short asshole makes him feel over the course of the week, he can unleash his wrath come the second week with his rules. _Oh, you like TV? TV’s banned, mother fucker. Maybe accept a goddamn handshake next time_. When Dean stops thinking about ways to torture Ian’s family, he realises it’s been quiet for far too long and even Yevgeny, a child barely - Dean assumes - able to acknowledge the concept of awkwardness, is looking at him weirdly. He clears his throat and shifts uneasily on his feet.

‘Okay, so-‘

‘Look, I wasn’t the one who asked for this, okay? Let’s just get the fuck through this.’

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up and he nods slowly. ‘Yep, sure, okay.’ _God._

‘A’right, so here’s what’s gonna happen. We both gotta do some interesting shit for the people watching sometimes but fuck if I’m doin’ that when the cameras are off.’ Dean watches as Mickey’s eyebrows creep further and further up his forehead as he talks. It amuses him until he realises that Mickey’s waiting for him to voice his agreement. Dean, however, isn’t threatened.

‘That could happen, yeah… Or I could help you salvage your relationship and correct how you seem to treat other human beings.’ Ouch.

Dean stands his ground as Mickey gets right up in his face. ‘You don’t know a fucking thing.’

Yevgeny seems to have picked up on the sudden coldness in the room and becomes angry himself, standing next to his father and balling his fists. Dean doesn’t quite understand how things escalated so damn quickly, but he feels a bit idiotic right now. The cameraman’s practically come in his pants from the prospect of _actual_ tension and hatred, of actual watchable content.

Eventually, Dean gets over himself and raises his hands in a placating manner. ‘I think we got off on the wrong foot.’

Mickey tilts his head and the eyebrow movements just start happening again. ‘No shit.’

He _really_ doesn’t want to make himself seem weak but desperate times. ‘Just think of it as I’m your bitch for this week, you’re mine for the week after.’ That kind of levels it out, he guesses.

‘How about you’re my bitch for both weeks and we leave it at that. Jesus Christ, man,’ Mickey mutters with a head shake. ‘I’m going for a cigarette, look after the kid.’

Dean reckons he’s going to get whiplash by the end of the week.


	3. Week 1, Day 2

**_Ian and Cas_ **

Ian doesn’t remember putting an alarm on the night before and yet one seems to be screeching in his ear at full blast.

‘What the fuck?’ he grumbles into his pillow, loving the small patch of drool he’s left behind.

‘I know it’s a little annoying, but you have to be up for work.’

‘Agh!’ Ian jumps at the sound of Cas’ voice. He’s standing beside the bed, looking down on him with a mug of coffee in his hand. Cas then carries on speaking like it isn’t a _really_ weird situation.

‘I don’t know how you take your coffee, or if you even drink it, but I just made it how Dean likes it.’

‘How are you this much of a morning person?’ Ian groans before thinking back to when he would be up at dawn running for miles and taking pictures of the sunrise. Sometimes he can’t believe he’s the same person as his past self.

Castiel shrugs and offers Ian the mug. ‘Living with Dean taught me to be. His father was in the military so he trained Dean to wake up naturally at an early hour from a very young age.’

Ian can’t even find it in himself to hide his wince at the mention of the military. ‘Right.’

Cas tilts his head and his hands drop limply. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Nah, I’m good… So… does Dean carpool or what?’

The other man chews on his bottom lip for a good half a minute, allowing the silence to drag on. ‘Dean wasn’t happy about leaving the Impala here, but you will be driving it to work if you so choose.’

‘Where _is_ work?’ Ian mumbles, taking a sip of the coffee. It’s not terrible, but it’s not great, just like Mickey takes his.

‘It’s only a couple of blocks away.’

‘And he drives there?’

Castiel sighs at him. ‘You don’t know Dean. He will take Baby everywhere.’

Ian coughs out a laugh and carefully places his mug on the side table. ‘I’m sorry, _Baby_?’

‘His car is very dear to him.’

‘Oh my god.’

Castiel smiles in amusement before gingerly taking a seat on the edge of the bed and smoothing out his expression. ‘Uh, I was told you need to take medication at specific times?’

‘Mmm,’ Ian hums as he takes another drink of coffee. ‘You don’t need to worry about it, though, I’ve got it covered.’

He nods and begins fingering a loose thread on his grey Henley. It looks a little baggy on his lean frame so Ian automatically assumes it’s one of Dean’s. He can’t help but smile a little at that.

‘Your boyfriend…’

‘Mickey.’

‘Mickey… Does he normally help you out with that sort of thing?’

Ian inclines his head and shuffles so he’s propped up more comfortably. ‘Mostly. He’s always worried I’m gonna run away again or lose my shit if I don’t take my meds so he’s pretty much Doctor Mickey.’

Castiel’s eyebrows raise and he chuckles. ‘Did you buy him a nurse outfit?’

Ian splutters. ‘No, but I wish I did now.’

Cas grins back. ‘I would have done that for Dean. Nurse role-playing and light domination… Maybe it would have lightened the situation.’

‘If I’d done it, it would have sure made taking my meds a thousand times better.’

‘Hm,’ Cas hums amusedly before glancing at the clock by Ian’s head. ‘If I keep you here any longer you’ll be late for work.’

‘Shit, yeah… Uh, so this Bobby guy-‘

‘Oh, don’t worry, he’s completely fine. And he’s basically mine and Dean’s family, you’ll get along with him,’ Cas reassures before standing up, smiling at Ian, and leaving the room.

Ian lets out a long sigh and drags a hand through his red hair. He flinches when his fingers pull through some knots and thinks about how long it’s getting.

*

In the end, Ian decides to walk. He knows he’s supposed to be being Dean for the week, but it would honestly hurt him inside to drive such a short distance. Also, he kind of gets a kick out of hearing the camera guy wheeze as he tries to keep up with Ian’s walking pace. He doesn’t even actually know why he’s filming this; Ian’s not even talking, just smoking.

It doesn’t take him very long to reach the beaten up, broken down Chevelle which is basically acting as a welcome sign. Ian tips his head to it and hesitates before continuing down the dirt driveway to the actual welcome sign. _Winchester and Singer Auto_ stands proudly above the first bay where he can see boot clad feet poking out from beneath what he’d guess is a… No, actually, he’s not even going to pretend he’s got any knowledge on cars.

‘Uh, hi?’ he calls out, burying his hands in his hoodie pockets.

‘Hang on,’ a gruff voice replies. Ian’s mildly disappointed the man didn’t startle at the sound of Ian’s voice and smash his head on the underside of the car like in a movie. He can hear the sound of metal moving against metal and takes a moment to glance over at the camera operator with a clueless expression on his face. ‘What can I do- oh, you must be _Ian_.’

Ian whips his head back around and spots an older man wiping his hands on a filthy rag. He’s probably making his hands even dirtier through using it but _Jesus_ does it fit in with the whole image he’s got going on. His trucker cap sits over brown hair and a bushy beard covers the lower half of his face.

‘And you must be Bobby,’ he replies with a smile, reluctantly offering a hand for him to shake. Sure, he’s lived in the South Side his entire life but he’s allowed to feel slightly disgusted by grease.

‘Dean arranged it so you’ll only have to be in for three days this week, got Thursday and the weekend off.’

Ian nods his head and lets go of Bobby’s rough hand. He eyes the packed space behind Bobby and swallows, already knowing that he’s in over his head. Bobby catches the panic and huffs out a small chuckle.

‘Don’t look so scared, boy, there’s no way in hell I’m lettin’ you near my cars.’ Ian pinches his eyebrows together in confusion and Bobby laughs again. ‘I’m assumin’ you don’t have any previous experience with cars.’

‘I stole one once,’ Ian tries to weakly defend himself. ‘…Well, my brother did… but still.’

Bobby rolls his eyes and claps Ian on the shoulder, lightly pushing him towards the car he’d been working on. ‘This here is a Camaro. Listen closely. You _do not touch_ it.’

Ian’s so bewildered, not exactly knowing how to place Bobby’s personality. ‘No, yeah, I hear you.’

‘Glad we understand each other... Your job will most likely be givin’ Issy burritos, makin’ Esme coffee, and goin’ out to buy Rufus cigarettes.’

‘And you?’

Bobby glares at him for a moment, obviously wary of Ian’s attitude. ‘You just keep outta my way and we’ll be fine.’

‘Ah. Okay then.’ Ian nibbles his bottom lip and almost visibly jumps when a woman who couldn’t have been much younger than him sidles up to the both of them.

‘You’re Ian?’ He lifts his eyebrows at her London accent and nods his confirmation. She pouts, considering, before grinning. ‘I’m Issy.’

‘Hey,’ Ian croaks.

‘You nervous?’

Ian lets out a chuckle and shifts, realising then that Bobby’s _still_ gripping his shoulder and looking at him warily, like he’s evaluating him. ‘Nah, I’m good. I feel better knowing I’m not going to be fixing anything.’

‘I’m sure I can find you something,’ Issy says with a smirk, pushing her brown curly hair out of her eyes from where it had escaped her ponytail. Ian gulps and puts on a forced grin.

‘Uh, you mentioned other people worked here...’ The sheer subtlety there. He looks to Bobby to help him out and he _finally_ lets go of his shoulder and nods.

‘Through here. Yer lucky a fair few people are working today so you can meet most of ‘em. Our workforce is pretty female heavy here, so if you have a problem with that, you’re not going to get on well here.’

‘It’s actually a pretty welcome change,’ Ian admits. He works in an all guy gay club most nights so, yeah, he’s looking forward to this. Bobby gives him an odd look, but continues to guide him through the garage. It’s a lot larger than Ian expected, probably because he thought that dealing mostly with classic cars wouldn’t exactly bring in big business, but he’s pleasantly surprised.

‘Okay so the grumpy bastard who’s now workin’ on the Camaro I told you t’ stay away from is Rufus.’

Rufus looks up and huffs out a sigh. ‘Bobby what did I tell ya about giving me a good first impression?’

‘No point sugar coatin’ it.’ At this, Rufus shrugs, nods towards Ian and then just resumes whatever he was doing to the engine. ‘Alright, I don’t expect you t’ remember everyone’s names. Gotta be honest, it took me a while myself.’

Ian smirks as Issy walks past with a frown on her face, nudging Bobby. ‘How dare you.’

Bobby shakes his head and draws Ian’s attention back to him. ‘Right, over there you can see Ruby workin’ on… Hey, put your phone away this ain’t time for slacking!’ he says incredulously, glaring at the short brown haired woman. Cockily, she puts her phone in the back pocket of her overalls and strides over to Ian, sticking out a hand.

‘Finally, a hot guy. I was hoping for Sam to visit but you’ll do.’ Ian shakes her hand and almost winces at her grip.

‘Gay. Taken. Tragically,’ Ian comments, grinning. She sighs and lifts an eyebrow while Bobby just rolls his eyes overdramatically.

‘Such a shame. We need more fresh meat around here, it’s getting boring.’

‘Oh, I’m not _fresh meat_ -‘

‘He’s replacin’ Dean while he’s on that show. Thought you’d’ve noticed the cameras by now,’ Bobby explains, jabbing a thumb towards… God, was it Adam? Andy? Ian honestly doesn’t know. Anyway, the man holding the camera. Ruby’s face instantly brightens.

‘Well hi there,’ she purrs, slinking closer to the camera.

‘She’ll hit on any goddamn guy who’s dumb enough to come in here when she’s working,’ Bobby gripes. ‘Anyway, moving on.’

Ian nods, pleased to be able to say he dodged that bullet and glad for the change in conversation topic.

‘This place may look run down but it gets a helluva lotta business. Not too many reasonable places able to repair classic cars ‘round here, so we need a big team.’

‘How many people are working?’ Ian asks unsurely, peering around the area. The place didn’t really look _that_ busy.

‘We got Cassie outside workin’ on a Honda Civic – yeah, we can’t always bag the classics – an’ she and Dean used to date for a while before Cas came into the picture.’

‘Dean lived here before he met Cas?’ _Cas and Cassie… A trend, perhaps?_

‘Fair few years, yeah. He moved up from Lawrence when he was a teenager to Sioux Falls and then we chose to just up sticks and relocate when he was around… twenty two? Lisa came too, they were still tryna make it work at the time…’

Ian kind of appreciates the brief Dean history lesson, but he can’t help but feel even more confused at the same time. He smiles pleasantly and decides to prompt Bobby further. ‘And… anyone else?’

‘There’s Sarah, Esme, Madison and James. They don’t have set shifts, just come in when I need ‘em. Sarah and Madison used to date Dean’s brother and I’m pretty sure James was… _somethin_ ’ with Dean, I don’t like to think about it too much,’ Bobby admits. Ian thinks that stems more from the fact that Dean appears to be more like a son to him than the fact that it’s two dudes.

‘Has everyone here slept with a Winchester at least once?’ Ian asks incredulously. He sees Rufus wrinkle his nose in distaste.

‘Hell no,’ Rufus grunts, shaking his head at the very idea. Ian’s happy to have put the image in everyone’s heads.

‘I _wish_!’ Issy yells from her new location; under a car on some wheely thing that Ian _thinks_ is a fire emblazoned skateboard.

‘Ah jeez, quit that,’ Bobby grumbles. Ian chuckles and waits for the older man to recover. ‘Oh, almost forgot, Linda Tran works Friday through Tuesday, she’s just through that door in reception. Might see a kid wondering around lookin’ out of place with a dozen math books perched under his arm. That’s Kevin, her son. Goes to the local University majoring in just about everything.’ Bobby shakes his head and sighs. ‘He’s gonna burn out soon enough, I wouldn’t go near ‘im, he might start talkin’ crazy about formulas and Latin.’

‘Okay, sure… He doesn’t work here, though?’

‘Naw, just visits his mom a lot. I’m fine with it, obviously. We’re like a big family here.’

‘Aw, Bobby, I’m tearing up,’ Rufus says, sniffing for effect.

Bobby rolls his eyes and adjusts his cap. ‘Do your job, Rufus ‘n quit eavesdropping.’

‘I’ll remember this next time I need a body buried.’ Ian’s eye twitches because shit, _is he actually joking_? He genuinely can’t tell.

‘Shut the hell up,’ Bobby snaps but there’s no heat in it. He sighs again and gestures for Ian to follow him into the break room. ‘You’ll be here most of the time, as I said, Dean might’ve been more lenient if he were here, but he’s not, so there’s no way you’re workin’ on any of my cars, you got that?’

‘Hah, yeah, I, uh, I’ve got it.’ Ian smoothes down the wrinkled collar of his grey t-shirt and takes in the room. It’s pretty stereotypical: wooden panelling along the walls, a beaten up fridge and various other appliances dotted along the counters. There’s a substantial table in the middle of the room littered with dirty coffee mugs. Great. Ian guesses what his first task’s going to be before Bobby even speaks.

‘First item on the agenda; clean the mugs.’

Without another word, Bobby leaves the room and saunters over to another car in the garage he hadn’t noticed was there before. Despite his gruffness, Ian can’t help but warm to Bobby; he’s been living with grumpiness for years now and it’s become normal, almost comforting.

 

**_Dean and Mickey_ **

‘Ian mentioned a job. Uh, he said you’d tell me what it was.’

Mickey raises his eyebrows and stops spooning sugar into his coffee. ‘He said _I’d_ tell you? That fucking pussy, uh… look…’

Dean’s sufficiently worried by this point, desperate to know what he’d be doing at some point this week.

‘Kinda wondered why you weren’t talking about having to get ready for his shift later, actually. So…’

‘Just tell me!’ Dean bursts out.

‘Jeez, alright. Ian works in Boystown. The White Swallow.’

So Dean doesn’t live in Chicago. This means _nothing_ to him. ‘Thanks, Mickey, I’ll just go to wherever the hell that is.’

‘Oh my god, are you kidding? You haven’t figured it out from that?’

‘Gotta give me a little more to go on.’

‘It’s a fuckin’ gay club, man.’

Dean’s eyes widen. Holy shit, Ian’s actually a stripper. He says as much to Mickey and he simply scoffs in reply, going back to preparing his coffee.

‘He’s a dancer, not a stripper. You think I’d let him go strip for all those creepy faggy old dudes?’

‘Well… dancing’s kinda-‘

‘Don’t fucking remind me, asswipe, now are you gonna get ready tonight or not? There’s your uniform in the bedroom.’

‘You’re not… you’re not actually serious, are you?’ Dean really damn hopes he’s not. He _receives_ the dances, he does not _give_ them… Only to Cas, but that’s his private business.

Mickey rolls his eyes and takes a large gulp of coffee, letting some dribble down his chin. ‘Stop lookin’ at me like I’m so fuckin’ gross, I saw you scarf down that ready meal yesterday, you can’t talk.’ Dean’s momentarily stunned but Mickey doesn’t give him enough time to respond properly, hastily moving on to answer Dean’s question. ‘’Course I’m not serious. You think Ian’s boss’d let a random ass pretty boy fuck around on stage with no idea what he’s doin’? Nah, you’re gonna be bartending. Ian does that sometimes.’

‘You’re a rude piece of shit,’ Dean says bluntly, crossing his arms. Mickey looks so unbothered it makes Dean even angrier. _At least react you bag of dicks_.

‘That make you feel better?’

‘Awesome, actually,’ Dean says with an annoying grin.

‘Awesome,’ Mickey echoes with a weird look that Dean doesn’t really know how to interpret. They stare at each other for a while, waiting for one to back down, before Yev comes barrelling in.

‘School time?’

‘Aw, fuck, yeah, uh…’ Oh wow, the way Mickey’s face warps when he realises he actually has to use Dean’s name gives him life. ‘ _Dean_ , could you drop him off at school… ‘cause Ian’d usually… do that.’

Dean allows Mickey to stew for a while before finally nodding and patting the top of Yevgeny’s head. The little boy looks somewhat confused but still accepts it. ‘You ready to go, buddy?’

He can see Mickey practically shiver with irritation.

‘Yep,’ Yev replies, ending the word with a loud popping sound. Mickey smiles briefly at his son before remembering that there was a camera on him and Dean also in the room. He quickly schools his features into a natural scowl.

‘You know the way? Ian doesn’t drive there, does he?’ Dean looks over to Mickey for an answer and just gets a small laugh.

‘We look like we can afford a car? Garglin’ old man balls only gets you so far.’

‘O-kay,’ Dean murmurs before grinning down widely at Yev. ‘You happy to lead the way, _bud_?’ Oh man, Dean can’t resist pissing Mickey off, it’s just so satisfying.

‘I said yeah…’ Yevgeny grumbles, rolling his eyes. To Dean’s (and Mickey’s) surprise, Yev grabs Dean’s t-shirt and pulls until Dean’s literally being dragged out of the house. For a six year old, he’s damn strong.

The door slams shut behind the camera guy and Dean thinks that the walk would be a golden opportunity to find out more about Ian and Mickey and their family dynamic. ‘Hey, uh, Yev?’

‘Yup?’

Dean shoves his hands in his pockets and squints at the powerful sun. ‘What’s it like at home usually?’

Yev pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and nibbles at it. ‘Uhhh, why?’

He shrugs over exaggeratedly and grins. ‘I dunno, just curious.’

Yev frowns at him like he’s a freak and Dean’s predictions for how the rest of the talk’s gonna go aren’t fantastic but he’s going to persevere. ‘Well I like it a bunch… Daddy… the one at home now, he… understands me.’ Dean prompts him to go on with a nod. ‘And Daddy Ian is kind.’

‘Man of few words, I like it,’ Dean murmurs, looking at his shoes. ‘How far until-‘

‘I’m not done, duh,’ Yev protests, making a smirk break out on Dean’s lips. ‘Well they love each other a lot.’

‘That so?’

‘Yes! They fight but… They love each other so it’s okay. I’m not worried anymore.’

‘Anymore?’

Yev pouts a little and swings his school bag as he walks. ‘I _thought_ they were gonna break up but Daddy told me everything’s fine so I b’lieve him.’

‘Who, Mickey?’ Dean smiles softly. He _knew_ there was a nicer side to Mickey… deep down… under like a fuck load of bravado. Yevgeny grins and nods vigorously before opening his mouth and pointing across the street.

‘My school’s over there and I _think_ that’s Gemma.’ Yev tries to cross the road to investigate but Dean swiftly pulls him back, much to the kid’s annoyance. ‘Hey!’

‘Nuh-uh, there’s no way I’m letting you get flattened by a car, little dude.’

Dean figures he maybe should have phrased the sentence a bit better because Yev’s jaw drops open and he looks fucking _terrified_. Shit.

*

‘Mandy’s got a date or somethin’ so Ian’s sister’s comin’ over in a couple’a minutes to look after Yev.’

Dean frowns a little, watching as Mickey shucks on his coat. ‘That doesn’t make any sense, why would Yev need to be babysat? I thought you were gonna be here?’

Mickey pauses getting ready and stares at Dean for a while, reading his expression. ‘Nah, I’m comin’ with you.’

‘Look, I’m not some damsel in distress, I’ve worked in a bar before for freakin’ _years_ , I don’t need you to come and watch over me.’ Dean had worked behind the bar at The Roadhouse back in South Dakota for three years (somewhat illegally but who needs to know that, really) before uprooting with Bobby and landing in Illinois where he’d subsequently met Cas and so on and so forth.

‘This ain’t about you,’ Mickey grunts, stepping into his boots with little finesse, shoving his feet in and wiggling them around with minimal effort.

‘Then why are you coming?’

Mickey rolls his eyes and marches off to knock on Yev’s bedroom door. ‘Come out, Yev, Fiona’s gonna be here soon.’ Dean had followed him so it was easy for Mickey to address him again. ‘I’m coming because I’d usually go with Ian, alright?’

‘Like a possessive boyfriend.’

‘Exactly!’ Mickey replies with a sarcastic smile and a middle finger. Soon his face drops back to its normal scowl and he walks back through to the living room, glancing up at the clock. ‘Fucking Fiona.’

‘Fiona’s Ian’s sister?’

‘Yeah. And she might bring Liam, I dunno.’ At Dean’s blank look, he rolls his eyes again and huffs out, ‘Other sibling. Jesus, you’re slow.’

‘How the hell was I supposed to just automatically know that?’

‘Use your common fuckin’ sense, man. Oh shit, she’s here, _Yev_ , hurry the fuck up!’

Almost instantly there’s a practically teenager worthy groan and Yevgeny comes rushing into the room, clutching a wrinkled colouring book. ‘Here, Daddy, I’m here.’

‘Great, good boy, now go say hi to Fiona when she opens the door in like three seconds.’

‘Okie dokie!’

Mickey’s suddenly lethal glare lands on Dean and he actually looks like he’s breathing steam out of his nostrils. ‘Seriously?’

‘What?’

‘You fuckin’ tell him to say that?’

‘Heya, Milkoviches!’ a female voice greets from the doorway. Dean’s head quickly turns away from Mickey – and by the way, who the hell gets that touchy over something like that? - and looks at the woman who he figures is Fiona. She’s got a ten year old standing next to her and Dean squints at him because… Well…

‘Yeah, Liam’s black, it’s a long story, hey, I’m Fiona.’ Fiona extends a hand for Dean to shake and grins, completely unfazed. Liam, however, frowns up at his older sister, moving away from her to go and see Yev.

‘Dean,’ he replies, accepting the handshake. ‘You’re looking after Yev, then?’

‘Oh yeah, whenever Mandy’s not available, that’s where I come in.’ She blows a strand of her dark hair out of her face and smiles down at Yev and Liam. Then she snaps her head up and looks to Mickey. ‘Almost forgot! Carl and Debbie are comin’ back from College next week, Debbie on Tuesday, Carl on Thursday. Debbie’s pissed she won’t get to see Ian, but are you comin’ to the welcome home party?’ Swiftly, she glances at Dean and then away again.

‘Yeah, about that, depends whether this asshole’ll let us come over.’ At Fiona’s confused puckered brow, he loosely gestures with his hands. ‘It’s his week next week… The fu- you never watched _Wife Swap_?’

‘Can’t say I ever had the time,’ Fiona replies blankly, shaking her head and letting a smile form again. ‘Anyway, Dean!’ When she turns to him, he feels pretty damn guilty because, although family time is great, he doesn’t think he wants to spend any length of time with _Ian’s_ family… while he’s _pretending to be_ Ian… So he’s likely to say no, and he thinks Fiona’s picked up on this. She tilts her head and puts her hands on her hips. ‘It’ll be fun. You haven’t partied ‘til you’ve been to a Gallagher blowout.’

‘She’s right,’ Mickey reluctantly contributes. ‘I thought the Milkoviches held crazy welcome home parties but the _Gallaghers_.’ Mickey lets himself grin for a while before he remembers that he’s not supposed to be happy around Dean and starts up a miserable grimace. Dean nods at him before looking back at an expectant Fiona.

‘Uh, yeah… okay, I guess that would be… Yep.’ Fuck it.

‘Great! You’re providing the dip and you gotta bring at least one case of beer.’ Fiona grins at Dean’s vaguely polite expression, showing off her teeth before she lifts her arm to check her watch. ‘Oh shit, I better let you go or you’ll be late for your shift.’

‘So you know all about Ian’s job?’

‘Yeah, well, at first he didn’t want to tell me, we were all goin’ through a rough patch but, uh, yeah, I know about it. He’s been workin’ there for so long now it’s just normal.’ Fiona turns her gaze to an unusually silent Mickey and nibbles the inside of her cheek. ‘Hey, you gotta leave or Ian’ll have it in the ass for your tardiness.’

‘Wrong choice of wording there, Fi, I’ll see ya in a couple of hours,’ Mickey grumbles, brushing past her and patting her on the arm in a weirdly affectionate way. Fiona chuckles and taps his hand before he lets go and leaves out the door. Dean awkwardly waves at her before following Mickey who’s already power walked a way down the street. Dean lets out a long breath, shakes his head and then darts after Mickey. Fuck, he’s actually embarrassed he’s almost out of breath so quickly. He blames Cas for keeping him away from exercise. He watches with narrowed eyes as the camera guy drives past them.

‘You guys all close, then?’ he puffs out, finally matching Mickey’s stride. The guy’s got short legs but hell if he can’t keep up a quick pace. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he watches Dean struggle.

‘Pretty much. Everyone helps each other out and we’re all in each other’s circle.’

Dean scrunches his eyebrows together. ‘Circle?’

Mickey breathes out a long sigh, like Dean’s supposed to just instantly know all this inside shit. ‘Ya know. _Circle._ ’ And Mickey feels that interlocking his own fingers provides a good enough explanation.

‘Alright then,’ Dean mutters, not bothering to even try to get a coherent answer out of Mickey. In turn, Mickey just looks away in frustration, turning down a particularly dangerous alleyway. Not for the first time Dean’s wondering whether he should have packed his knife.

‘Okay, so we’re gonna get the L in a sec, you think you can handle that?’

Dean scoffs and glares at Mickey. ‘I’ve been on a train before.’

‘Yeah, well, I know someone who got fingered on it so watch yourself, tough guy.’

Dean shudders. ‘That’s gross. Who was it?’

‘Like I’m tellin’ you.’

When they board the L it’s quiet between them, with Mickey constantly picking at his lip and Dean tapping his foot, willing the ride to go faster. He wants to get it all over with, really. As soon as they get off, Mickey dives into his pocket and retrieves a cigarette.

‘You’re too dependent on those,’ Dean idly comments.

‘Fuck off,’ Mickey grouches as he flicks on his lighter. Dean surprises him by holding out a hand.

‘You mind?’

Mickey frowns but slowly reaches into the packet and gives one to Dean. ‘Didn’t know you smoked.’

Dean shrugs and accepts the lighter off Mickey. ‘Don’t usually. Stopped when I met Cas; wasn’t fun smoking alone with his judgemental looks.’

‘Ian was like that for a while… ‘til he started up again.’ Mickey smirks, inhales, and then starts walking again. ‘Not far away now, you’ll know we’re close when you start seein’ guys in stripper heels ‘n glitter.’

‘Tasteful.’

‘Oh yeah. Wait ‘til you see the fishnet vests. Sometimes in the winter there’re dudes dressed in fur coats. _Nothin’ else_.’

Dean smiles at the sudden easy banter between them and takes a last drag of his cigarette, throwing it to the ground just after Mickey.

‘Okay so we’re here.’ It’s not exactly a grand introduction, but Dean’ll take it. He runs his eyes over the pretty lengthy queue outside the club and lets out a low whistle.

‘Is it normally this busy?’

Mickey raises his eyebrows as he looks at Dean and then peeks at the line, expression going back to normal. ‘Oh, nah, s’just that the bouncer’s a prick, doesn’t let people in too quickly. They’ll wait out here for hours makin’ it look like it’s busier and hotter than it is. Goddamn idiots still haven’t picked up that the bouncer’s just fucking with ‘em.’

Dean nods and smiles at said bouncer as he lets them into the club. Once inside, he’s instantly disorientated at the sheer amount of strobe lights going off. ‘Son of a bitch, you weren’t kiddin’.’

Mickey grins. ‘Glitter. Heels. Everything.’ He lets out a short laugh and then points to the dance floor, leaning in more closely to be heard over the bass. ‘Told you the bouncer was being a dick; you could fit a fuck load more fags on there, right?’

Dean makes a displeased noise at his wording but nods anyway. ‘So where do I go? I don’t see a bar?’

The shorter man slaps his arm as an indication to follow him and worms his way through the gyrating bodies. Dean’s seen about six topless guys in booty shorts already and he’s been in here about two minutes. They reach the other side of the room and Dean can finally see a bar but it’s a far cry from The Roadhouse.

‘Here. Serve up drinks, try to look happy,’ Mickey instructs, shrugging, before sitting down on an empty seat at the bar. Dean inclines his head and doesn’t bother reminding Mickey that _he knows what to do, he’s done all this before_.

There’s another bartender working but he barely acknowledges him, simply going about making the fruitiest cocktails Dean’s ever seen. He’s a little rusty, but he’s pretty sure he can remember most of the cocktail combinations. He makes a mean margarita, Cas has told him multiple times… drunkenly.

‘Get ready for about six billion Sex on the Beach orders,’ Mickey grumbles, barely audibly over the music which Dean thinks has been turned up even louder just since he’s been standing behind the bar. ‘ _But_ ,’ Mickey continues, ‘ _I’ll_ have a Jack Daniels. Double shot.’

‘Comin’ right up, valuable paying customer,’ Dean replies merrily, reaching under the bar for a glass and then raking his eyes over the thousands of different coloured bottles until he spies a half empty whiskey bottle.

He pours it out and then slides it across the bar and Mickey instantly downs it, unsurprising to Dean. He’s slightly impressed at how well Mickey keeps the alcohol down, however.

‘Hey, only just noticed your tats,’ Dean shouts over the music, pointing at Mickey’s fingers on the bar. Mickey glances at his hands and then draws them in, hiding them under the counter. ‘Kinda stupid, kinda cool,’ Dean says with a shrug, topping up Mickey’s already empty whiskey glass. In response, he briefly nods and then shows his hands in order to take a draught.

Dean tilts his head and looks around the club quickly before shrugging again. ‘I have one.’

‘Oh really?’ Mickey titters, lifting his eyebrows.

Dean grins and starts pulling up the bottom of his plain black t-shirt. Mickey’s eyes widen.

‘Are you taking your fuckin’ shirt off in a _gay club_? You nuts?!’ Mickey barks, warily moving his eyes over the people close by. Dean gives him a smirk before taking it off completely. ‘Your husband’s gonna fucking love this, man.’

‘I do this all the time, it’s just Cas is usually here to grope me possess-‘

‘Alright, alright! Jesus, I don’t need details,’ Mickey cuts in. Dean hides a grin as he notices that Mickey’s eyes are fixed on his chest.

‘Like it? Anti-possession tattoo, me ‘n my brother got matching ones when he turned eighteen.’

Mickey shakes his head and takes another sip of whiskey. ‘Yeah, okay, it’s… Yeah, it’s okay, I guess.’

Dean lets out a laugh but jumps a little when he feels a hand on his butt. ‘Woah, there, cowboy.’

‘I couldn’t resist,’ someone who’s definitely not an employee rumbles against Dean’s ear. Dean should probably tell him he’s not allowed behind the bar… but he doesn’t.

Dean lifts his left hand and points to the silver ring adorning his finger. ‘I’m married, dude, sorry.’

Recognition lights up Mickey’s eyes and suddenly he’s a hell of a lot more pissed off than normal. ‘Are you that motherfucker who hit on _me_ last week? Get the hell outta here!’

‘I see you ditched the ginger snap... Quickie divorce and then a shotgun wedding?’ He shifts his eyes back and forth between Dean and Mickey. Dean thinks his face will break if he grins any wider at Mickey’s obvious revulsion.

‘Fuck no! I’m still with the _ginger snap_ , now fuck off before I make your stomach get reacquainted with your teeth.’

The unknown man furrows his eyebrows and thinks for a moment. ‘Wait, that doesn’t make any sense…’

‘Do I look like a give a fuck?!’ Mickey puffs out his chest and shoots up off the bar stool looking like an enraged kitten… filled with fury and wrath. _Honest to god terrifying_.

The man lifts his hands up in surrender and backs off, returning to the dance floor.

‘Christ,’ Mickey grumbles with a deep frown, fixing his plaid shirt where it had ridden up. He finally looks back over to Dean and smoothes out his expression. ‘Oh fuck off.’

‘New fuck record, I think,’ Dean chuckles. He spots someone waiting for a drink at the other end of the bar and hurries off to attend to them before Mickey can tell him to fuck off again. If the cameras weren’t there, Dean thinks he could get used to this job; it amuses him.


	4. Week 1, Day 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm a little late! I was out and stuff so I didn't have time to post it.  
> Slight warning that this chapter implies what happened in 3x06 a few times

**_Ian and Cas_ **

Castiel had been tapping away on his typewriter for fucking hours in the night… _his typewriter_. Ian had tossed and turned for what felt like years, unable to ignore the sound so now he’s sat at the breakfast table practically falling asleep in his cornflakes. Fucking Cas, however, is actually _whistling_.

‘So you like to write?’ Ian can’t keep the slight hysteria out of his voice and he’s doing some serious spoon bending he’s clenching his fists so hard so not to punch the other man. He’s so damn exhausted.

Cas stops whistling and grins over at Ian. ‘Oh, yes, it’s actually my job. But I love it.’

Ian hates that he kind of feels a bit less angry at the excitement in Castiel’s voice, that he’s actually passionate about it all. ‘What do you write about?’ He’s finally using his spoon for what it’s actually supposed to do; shovelling cereal into the tired mouths of America.

‘All sorts, really. I have written a series of children’s books, a psychological thriller, a collection of research books on Theology, and also several romance novels.’

Ian starts at the last one. The first three he could get on board with but Cas really doesn’t come across as the next Nicholas Sparks. ‘Jesus.’

‘There was a section about Jesus, yes. He’s a rather interesting character to pick apart.’

Castiel’s grinning again and Ian just continues to shoot an ‘are you actually fucking serious’ look. Eventually, Cas lets out a chuckle and then looks at his watch.

‘I should start getting the twins ready for the day. Would you mind checking in on Ben? Dean usually just knocks on-’

‘Yeah, I get it,’ Ian mumbles with a smile, placing his empty bowl in the sink before making his way out of the room and up the stairs. He’s pretty much dreading what’s going to greet him because he remembers how Debbie acted at Ben’s age (Carl wasn’t much of a variation from how he’d always behaved).

Gingerly, Ian raps on the door and then opens it, revealing a fourteen-year-old with a completely neutral expression.

‘Come on in, New Dad.’

Ian rolls his eyes and forces himself to put on a friendly grin through the tiredness. ‘You ready for school?’

‘Yeah, about that…’ Ian cocks his head and crosses his arms, actually looking forward to Ben’s excuse. ‘I can’t go in today.’

‘You don’t look sick,’ Ian comments dryly, raising his eyebrow and keeping a smirk on his face, letting Ben know he’s most definitely not buying into his bullshit.

‘I thought I put my phone on charge last night but Emma must’ve ripped the plug out or something.’ Ian just stares at him in disbelief. ‘What? I won’t know what the time is with my phone out of battery so I’ll be late to all my lessons.’

‘Get a fucking watch, look at a damn clock,’ Ian says incredulously, shaking his head. ‘You’re not staying home because of _that_.’

‘Dad would have let this happen,’ Ben whines, but Ian can see the evil smile threatening to come out. He’s about to retort when Castiel appears beside him, seemingly out of nowhere, with a twin in each arm.

‘ _Dad_ would have forced you out of the door. I’m not appreciating how you’re trying to take advantage of this new situation, Ben.’

Ben rolls his eyes and grudgingly gets up off his bed, dragging his feet as he leaves the room to fetch his school bag.

‘It’s only a few more days!’ Cas calls after him, hoisting Emma back up from where she’d slipped. He then turns to Ian. ‘You should probably start getting ready for work. I hear Bobby’s taken on a couple of new cars.’

‘Oh, I’m not actually doing any of the fixing.’ Cas frowns but then nods and bends to put the two girls on the floor. ‘You need any help with anything?’ Ian asks.

Castiel shakes his head. ‘I’m alright. Really, you should get ready.’

Ian can’t remember the last time getting ready for work didn’t mean that he’d have to start stuffing booty shorts and eyeliner into a backpack.

*

‘I’ve been in for an hour already waiting for you to arrive and I’ve been dying to tell you a story.’ Ian double takes as he walks past a woman he hasn’t seen before. Yeah, he’s sure he would have remembered her bright green hair. He points to his own chest and she sighs. ‘Yes, I’m talking to you.’

Ian’s so damn confused and he’s not sure whether this is Sarah or Madison or Esme. He’s going to guess the latter due to her accent – Bobby had mentioned that Esme and Issy were sisters.

‘Uhm, hi there,’ Ian opens with as he reaches her.

She chuckles. ‘Hi. I have a Dean story for you which I have a feeling will give me a good first impression.’

‘Right…’ He’s feigning an air of indifference but inside he’s actually interested. It’s a little strange, but he’s enjoying picking up small things over time about the guy he’s replacing for two weeks.

‘Once Dean and I hired strippers and were too scared to do the thing so we took them to fairground instead.’

There’s a short break of silence while Ian tries to process this. For one, he’s still tired as fuck from being kept up all night, and not only that but he really wasn’t prepared for this to be sprung upon him as soon as he entered the workplace from a girl he’d never seen before.

Soon, she seems to accept that Ian’s taken it in even though he remains quiet with his eyebrows scrunched together, so she just pats him on the arm and basically glides away from him. ‘I take two sugars in my coffee!’ she shoots back at him before she’s out of earshot.

Definitely Esme, then.

*

‘-and I swear to _Christ_ it was the most attractive thing I’ve ever seen.’

‘Woah, woah, woah, what’s the conversation topic this time?’ Ian asks, a little cautiously, as he walks into the garage. Both Esme and Issy are hunched over various car parts but look up at the sound of Ian’s voice.

Issy stares at him for a moment, probably debating whether or not to say, while Esme rolls her eyes to the ceiling looking completely done with it. ‘Well, one time I saw the outline of Dean’s-‘

‘Nope, I’m okay not knowing about Dean’s dick, thanks,’ Ian interrupts with a cough.

‘…Nipple piercing. Why did you assume I was talking about the ween?’

‘Oh my fucking god,’ he groans, turning away to the break room to get Esme her coffee. He can hear her laughter and she follows him into the other room, deciding to continue the conversation.

‘Apparently it makes it more sensitive.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Ian automatically replies before wincing. He turns around, still holding a mug, to see Esme lift her eyebrow, encouraging for him to go on. ‘I had one for a hot second.’

‘Oh I bet it was hot.’ Esme’s wink and eyebrow wiggle makes Ian laugh and nearly spill the coffee from the jug. He shakes his head.

‘Mickey didn’t think so.’

‘Mickey’s your… husband?’

Ian purses his lips. ‘Boyfriend.’

‘Ah, I see.’

He frowns at her and hands her the cup of coffee, watching as she instantly takes a gulp. ‘What?’

‘It’s the tone you use. Oh, yep, you’re waiting for him to ask.’

Ian nervously eyes the cameraman and clears his throat. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ _Oh shit_.

Esme smirks and rolls her eyes. ‘Okay then.’

‘Okay… then,’ Ian parrots, jutting his chin out and hastily leaving the break room.

‘I have a story!’ Issy yells as soon as he re-enters, making him practically jump out of his skin.

‘Jesus, uh, what’s it about?’

Esme silently slips back into the bay and glances out the main door to see Bobby conversing with a client. ‘You can tell him, you’ve got enough time, Bobby looks like he’s going to be out there for a while.’ She turns to Ian and mutters, ‘This could turn into a really long discussion.’

‘Not as long as when you start talking about the government, I actually fell asleep once it was so boring.’

‘Shove your opinions up your _ass_ , Isabel.’

Ian wears a dumbfounded expression as he watches the sisters interact and fishes a stick of gum discreetly out of his pocket.

‘ _Anyway_ ,’ Issy tiredly tries to get back on track, absently cleaning her tools with an already dirt coated rag. ‘Dean and I got married once.’

Ian splutters out a laugh. ‘What?! No.’

Issy nods, throwing a wrench onto the bench beside her, standing up and wiping her hands together. ‘Vegas, five years ago. Let me tell you, Cas was _not_ pleased.’

‘Holy shit,’ Ian breathes out through a titter.

‘We woke up in a skanky motel room - chavs literally everywhere - cradling each other, it was beautiful… but short lived. God I miss his body.’

‘You can’t miss something you had for two seconds, and there were not _literally_ chavs everywhere, Issy,’ Esme grumbles, sitting down in the space Issy had previously vacated on the bench.

Issy lifts a finger and jabs it her way. ‘Uh, you _can_ miss it if it was pure perfection and miles of tanned abs.’

Ian scrunches his face up. ‘I’d be at least mildly concerned if I was hugging a guy _that_ tall.’

She whips around to face him as Esme starts chuckling. ‘Do not start on Dean’s height. My beautiful baby...’

‘Your wording’s horrific,’ Esme murmurs, swallowing the last of her coffee and shoving her hand in Ian’s direction, silently ordering him to put it back in the break room.

‘God, do you treat Dean like he’s your slave, too?’ Ian groans, getting up from where he’d been leaning against a car bonnet. If Bobby found out he’d been doing that he’d probably start shouting at him.

 

**_Dean and Mickey_ **

Yev starts the day by screaming in Dean’s ear. A screeching child first thing upon waking is something Dean’s used to, but it’s not exactly what’s been making him feel homesick.

‘Jesus!’ he shouts, barely staving off a heart attack as the kid jumps around on the mattress. The shock of Dean’s raised voice causes Yev to stop and stare at the man curiously. ‘Why’re you doin’ that?’ Dean groans, blinking sleepily.

‘S’time to get up. Dad told me to wake ya,’ he replies, scratching at the side of his nose and then leaping off the sofa bed. As soon as he’s scampered out of the room, Dean lets out a long moan and shoves his face back in the pillow, a new rule popping into his head.

When he finally slips out from under the covers and cracks his back, he’s sufficiently pissed off to say the least. He’s a morning person, out of habit, mostly, but it’s the crack of dawn and he really doesn’t consider that a time to be conscious. Plus, _early_ early mornings always bring out other people’s worst aspects to the forefront of Dean’s mind when he’s talking to them, which is why Mickey seems completely unbearable the second Dean walks in.

‘Svetlana’s comin’ today, thought you should know,’ Mickey grumbles as soon as Dean enters the kitchen, stretching and yawning at the same time. When he’s done, he looks quizzically over at the shorter man.

‘Huh? Who the hell is Svetlana?’

‘Clear your throat or some shit, you sound like a fuckin’ frog.’

‘Awesome,’ Dean replies, absolutely loving Mickey “Sunshine” Milkovich’s attitude first thing in the morning. The guy holding a camera in the corner of the kitchen next to the half empty cereal boxes looks bored out of his skull. ‘Seriously, who’s Svetlana?’

Mickey rolls his eyes, taking a brisk sip of black coffee before answering. ‘Kid’s mom.’

‘Short but straight to the point. Thanks, Mickey always a pleasure.’ Dean plasters on a false smile then walks over to the piece of shit coffee machine and makes himself one. He feels weird that it irritates him that he and Mickey both take their coffee the same way. Well at least Dean’s sure no one pissed in his, but Mickey’s acting like somebody definitely did.

‘Make yourself at fuckin’ home.’

‘That’s what I’m supposed to do!’ Dean calls as he walks out of the kitchen, massaging his temples with one hand. If Dean was a couple of years younger and didn’t feel half dead, he’d deck Mickey right in his pissed off little face. He didn’t get why Ian was with him, but, he supposed, he’d never met Ian.

Thing was, Mickey wasn’t exactly being _awful_. They’d gotten along pretty well when Dean had been at Ian’s work, but in general Mickey just came across as unwelcoming and reluctant to let Dean into his life. The whole thing had probably been Ian’s idea.

When lunchtime rolls around and Dean’s feeling marginally more pleasant, he decides to coax some more information out of his stony temporary housemate.

‘Does Yev look like her at all?’ he asks as he shoves some ready-made macaroni cheese in the microwave. Mickey barely even looks over at him from where he’s sorting through the mail.

‘Who?’

Dean nearly groans at how difficult Mickey’s still being. ‘His mom, Set… Setluna…?’

‘ _Svetlana_. Uh, I guess. He’s got her mouth, probably.’

‘She’s from Russia?’ Dean prompts, wanting to keep Mickey talking.

Mickey nods. ‘She’s been here long enough, but still got the accent. She’s a stubborn fuck, I’ll tell you that.’

‘You referring to her in the sack?’ Dean jokes, trying to get Mickey to lighten up a bit. It does just the opposite. Dean can actually see Mickey tense up and close himself off, a coldness settling in his eyes. His lips are pressed tightly together and the _glare_ he’s giving Dean.

‘Don’t talk to me about that again,’ Mickey hisses with finality. Dean raises his hands in a pacifying manner and studies Mickey as he charges out of the room. He’s got no idea about what he’s said wrong but he doesn’t exactly want to bring it up in a hurry considering his reaction.

*

Svetlana turns out to be everything and nothing like Dean expected from Mickey’s brief description. She’s smoking a cigarette and wearing a flowing purple dress coupled with a leather jacket and killer red lipstick when he opens the door. Dean finds himself raking his eyes over her in surprise and appreciation for some reason, can’t help it.

‘I take baby for night,’ she tells Dean in a thick Russian accent, pushing past him and not even questioning Dean’s presence in her ex-husband’s house. Logically, Ian and Mickey had probably informed her.

‘Uh, okay,’ Dean replies to the empty entranceway, shutting the door and turning around to see Mickey smirking at him. ‘What?’

‘Nothin’.’

Dean rolls his eyes and walks further into the room, listening to the muffled voices coming from Yevgeny’s room. He decides to strike up a conversation on the topic of Svetlana with Mickey again.

‘So… she take him often?’

Mickey shrugs and leans back against the wall. ‘I guess. Normally for a night a week. Since she made me take responsibility for him she’s fucking MIA the rest of the time, dumps him on me and Ian.’

‘But you don’t mind, right?’ Dean asks, thinking it strange that Mickey makes looking after his son seem like such a chore. He watches as Mickey deflates, letting out a long breath of air.

‘I love the kid, ‘course I don’t fucking mind.’

Dean simply nods and bites the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything sarcastic. He’s actually kind of glad Mickey’s said something even mildly affectionate because he frankly can’t stand the way he can come across as so cold.

‘Hey, Lana, you doin’ okay?’ Mickey calls out, head lolling to the side against the drywall. Almost instantly Svetlana appears, grasping Yevgeny’s hand with one of her own, and gripping his little backpack handle in the other.

‘I am fine. _You_ okay withken doll, here?’ She glances over at Dean, seeming almost suspicious.

‘Yeah, just go. Call me before you come bargin’ back here without warning like you did last time, alright?’

Svetlana rolls her eyes. ‘Don’t need to. Don’t think you’ll be fucking anyone but orange boy, so I won’t be interrupting.’

Dean’s eyes widen as far as they can go as he glances between them. ‘Wow.’

Mickey glares, irritated, over at Dean before looking back at Svetlana. ‘Alright, alright. Take the kid now?’

Yevgeny frowns and crosses his arms over his chest dramatically, staring up at his father. Mickey sighs eventually and crouches down to hug his son.

‘Bye!’

‘Okay, you have fun with the Russian whore,’ Mickey mutters before both Yev and Svetlana slap his head. ‘Ow! Jesus, okay! God, just get the fuck out of my house!’

‘Nice meeting you,’ Dean says, smiling politely as he holds the door open. ‘Bye, Yev! …Great,’ Dean mumbles when the kid doesn’t even bother turning around to return the farewell. He swivels back around to Mickey and puts on his best adult-chastising tone. ‘Russian whore? _Really_?’

‘Oh yeah, really. How the fuck do you think I got myself into this situation?’ Mickey grunts before walking away from Dean and the inevitable questions.

Dean stays rooted to the spot before he shakes his head and drags a hand over his face. ‘What the hell.’ Suddenly, everything clicks, and the reaction for his earlier comment makes a lot more sense and he can feel his stomach sinking at the thought of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not crazy about this chapter but... yeah, there you go


	5. Week 1, Day 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: as I was editing this, a cat was affectionately headbutting me.  
> Sorry if this comes off as a bit filler-y. Also I have limited experience with three year olds I apologise.

**_Ian and Cas_ **

Ian’s pretty damn shocked when he realises he’s woken up before everyone else in the house, even the twins. It’s light outside, though, so he’s sure it’s okay for him to be awake. He checks the clock in the kitchen and is glad to know that there’s still a little while until he needs to take his meds.

He’s not alone for long, however, because soon Castiel comes rushing in looking completely ruffled, his blue tie on backwards, shirt buttons done up wrong and his hair is fluffy and all over the place. Ian would smirk if Cas’ eyes didn’t look so tired. He grabs a carton of juice out of the fridge and tips it in Cas’ direction, offering it, before pouring out two glasses.

‘I apologise, Ian, my publisher just called and I have to go to a conference at last minute. I understand it’s your day off but could you look after the children?’

Ian chokes on his drink a little and wipes his mouth. He’s slightly amazed at how apologetic Cas is being during the week where he can order Ian to do whatever the hell he wants. ‘Of course, yeah, don’t worry.’

‘I’ve called Sam- oh, sorry, I’ve called _Dean’s brother_ to come over and help out-‘ Cas pauses to take a long gulp of orange juice and then darts over to the cupboard just outside of the kitchen to retrieve a briefcase. ‘-and he should be here in about half an hour so today shouldn’t be _too_ much of a hassle for you.’

Ian waits for Cas to finally take a breath and then stands up to place a calming hand on Cas’ arm. ‘Dude, it’s fine. I have a ton of younger siblings, this’ll be a piece of cake.’

Castiel lets out a long breath of relief. ‘Well you won’t have to worry about Ben, at least. He should be up soon and getting ready for school. Dean’s usually getting ready for work at this time, he’s in way more than he put you in for,’ Cas says with a smirk. He rubs at his eyes and exhales shortly. ‘Okay, I should go.’

‘Sure, Cas. Have fun.’ He actually means it, too. The guy looks like he’s worn too thin and, even though he’s going out on a work related thing, he can pick up that he enjoys his job.

His face basically lights up at this and it’s great. ‘Thank you, Ian. I’m sure you’ll have a great time with Sam, he really is… quite something,’ he replies with a laugh. He leaves the room without saying anything else and Ian’s left to ponder what he means by that.

*

Ben’s already grudgingly left for school and the twins are screaming with neither of their parents in sight by the time there’s a knock at the door. Ian’s just about ready to rip his hair out; it’s too similar to how Debbie and Fiona’s summer day care used to sound. Granted, most of the time he wasn’t actually present, but he caught enough glimpses to know that it was some form of baby hell.

When Ian opens the door, he’s completely ready for the younger Winchester because of the sheer amount of photographs scattered about the house depicting him and his brother. But he supposes the “quite something” Cas had been referring to was his height. Yeah… he’s damn tall. Or maybe it was to do with the hair because that’s pretty fucking majestic too. ‘Hey,’ he breathes out, frazzled.

‘Uh, hi,’ Sam replies with a grin. He sticks out his hand. ‘I’m Sam.’

‘Ian, how are ya,’ he responds, tiredly taking Sam’s hand and swinging the door open wider. Sam smiles again and enters the house. Apparently the twins had followed Ian over to answer the door because suddenly Sam’s bending down to their level and absolutely beaming.

‘Hey Em, Claire!’

They look so fucking happy that he’s come to the rescue that it makes Ian feel a bit like shit. It probably looks pretty comical because the camera man’s backed up just to get in the whole picture of Ian being excluded from the group.

‘I’ve missed you guys.’

‘You saw us… Sunday,’ Claire informs him in a snooty voice, twisting the sleeve of Sam’s plaid button down between her fingers. He laughs and brushes some of her blonde hair out of her eyes.

‘That’s true.’ Sam seems to remember that Ian’s still in the room, then, and briefly looks up at him before turning his attention back to Claire and Emma. ‘So how’s _Ian_ been while your Daddy’s been away?’

Ian can’t wait for this.

Emma bites her lips and tilts her head. ‘Um… He’s weird.’

‘I’m totally weird.’

‘Weird hair,’ Claire agrees.

She’s three, but Ian still self-consciously runs a hand through his hair while Sam laughs again, finally standing back up to his full height. ‘Hey, you know it’s the same colour as Aunt Charlie’s, right?’

They both frown before they start giggling. Emma grins widely and rushes over to her uncle, gripping at his jeans. ‘Is Aunt Charlie comin’?’

‘Nope, sorry, Em.’

Emma frowns for about two seconds before dragging Sam into the living room. Ian follows, attempting to pick up Claire but she is having none of it, toddling after the others and out of Ian’s reach. The fucking camera guy will _not stop_ laughing at Ian’s expense.

‘Uncle Sam, I’m _bored_ ,’ Emma groans, flinging herself on the (thankfully) heavily carpeted ground.

‘I’m bored too,’ Claire soon whines, joining her sister on the floor and accidentally kicking her. Ian’s prepared for the wailing, but amazingly it doesn’t come. Emma just starts shoving Claire and Ian knows exactly where this is going. Sam waits for Ian to intervene like the father should, and he thought Cas had said Sam was there to _help_ him. He’s sure tiny people punching each other falls under the _needing help_ category but whatever.

‘Hey, girls, c’mon.’ He surges forward and tries to pry Claire off Emma, but, again, Claire’s not really taken a liking to him and rolls away herself. Well, at least they’re not fighting anymore.

Eventually, Sam rolls his eyes good-naturedly and bends down to pick up two small books from the coffee table, throwing them on the floor in front of the twins. If he’d done that for Liam or Carl when they were that age, they’d probably have continued fighting with even more ferocity than beforehand, but Emma and Claire stare at them before hastily grabbing hold of them.

‘What…’

‘Yeah, I bet Cas didn’t tell you you just needed to hand them a book each and they’re entertained for _hours_.’

Ian chuckles and shakes his head. ‘That asshole.’

Sam smiles and then inclines his head towards the sofa. After they’re both settled, watching the girls flip through the pages, Ian decides to start up some conversation.

‘So…’ Okay, so he’s not _great_ at openers, but it’s something. At least Sam’s looking at him encouragingly.

‘So?’

‘How long’ve you been living here?’ He inwardly slaps himself because he sounds so awkward and it’s probably quite clear that he’s been there for as long as Dean has.

‘We should get a beer.’

‘It’s like nine in the morning-‘

‘Let’s get a beer,’ Sam insists with a smirk. ‘It’s tradition for me ‘n my brother to share serious talks over beer.’

All Ian’s thinking is that Mickey would be totally down with this being a rule at their house. ‘This is going to be a serious talk?’

Sam shrugs and then opens the fridge, stealing two of Dean’s drinks. He’s sure he just saw Sam scrunch up the post-it note ( _touch my beer and you’re dead_ ) that had been resting on top of the bottles and throw it over his shoulder. ‘I guess so. If you want to find out about crap that’s happened, then yeah.’

‘Only to… like, understand this whole dynamic better… ‘n shit,’ Ian says, defending himself. Sam just snickers and pops open the bottles, offering one to Ian and then taking off back to the living room to watch over the children.

‘I had to finish school before coming here to join Dean, but other than that we’ve been here about the same amount of time.’

‘And you just followed him here? Just like that?’ Although Ian sounds confused, he’d just left his whole life in Chicago to join the army. Yeah, a little different from Sam’s situation, but he understands it.

‘He’s my brother, he looked after me my whole life.’ Sam smiles thoughtfully before looking back over at Ian. ‘’Course I’d follow him here. And if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met Jess.’

‘That’s your wife?’

Sam nods and his face just lights up. Ian hopes he looks like that now when he talks about Mickey. ‘I met her the second week I got here and I just knew that she was gonna be it for me.’

‘Huh,’ Ian breathes out, a little overwhelmed. It was never like that for him and Mickey. Sure, he’d liked him after they got over that whole he-actually-wants-to-kill-you thing. But he’d never have figured they’d still be together now, looking after the very kid that tore them apart. Well, it wasn’t just Yev, but still. He takes a long pull of his beer and sees Sam do the same in his periphery.

He’s about to question Sam further, coming out of his thoughts, when Claire and Emma start to get restless again. Sam looks panicked because, shit, his book thing hasn’t worked as well as he’d hoped. Ian has an idea and darts out of the room without warning, making his way to his temporary room to rummage through his suitcase, beer still in hand.

By the time he bounds back into the room, successful with his findings, Sam’s crouched on the floor, hugging the girls and trying to get them to calm down. He looks like he’s used to doing this so Ian’s not too worried - Sam’ll know what to do if his plan fails.

And right now said plan’s sailing through the air and landing just in front of Emma. She stares at the stuffed object, mystified.

‘What _is_ that?’ Emma mumbles, scrambling out of her uncle’s arms and picking up the battered toy. Claire obviously wants in on it too, and practically punches Sam in the face in her haste to join in. Sam slowly stands up and squints at Ian who just shrugs.

‘Always does the trick.’

‘I think they like you. Or you’re helping at least,’ Sam comments after a short silence. Ian looks at him questioningly. ‘Normally after the first five minutes, they don’t stop screaming - books or not - wanting their dads back. But they look pretty happy with that… freaky little toy thing… what _is_ that? I definitely haven’t seen it before.’

Ian grins, watching as Claire and Emma play with the hole covered sack of stuffing. ‘Yeah, I lifted it from my little brother Liam’s box of old toys before I came here. Just in case. Can’t tell you how many times we’ve had to stitch it back up. I think it used to be a dog or something.’

The day seems to whiz by after that, and Ian finds that he’s actually really enjoyed himself having warmed up to Claire and Emma more, and Sam’s been good company. He’s surprised that it’s almost four when Castiel bustles in through the door, Ben in tow. Ian actually does a double take because Ben _smiles_ at him.

‘Sam, you’re still here,’ Cas sighs, but not in a rude way, he looks genuinely pleased to see his brother-in-law. ‘You should stay for dinner. _Ian’s_ making… something.’

Ian jerks his head back and grimaces. ‘I am?’

Sam smiles gratefully but pats Castiel on the arm. ‘I better get going, but thanks. I’ll see you Sunday?’

Another frown appears on Ian’s face; the fuck was happening on Sunday? He hasn’t been told anything. Castiel drifts his gaze to Ian briefly and then back to Sam, grinning. ‘Sunday.’

‘Was good to meet you, man,’ he shoots Ian’s way before going over to say goodbye to Claire, Emma and Ben.

‘Sunday?’ Ian asks Cas suspiciously. Castiel only gives him a weird look and then walks off to put his briefcase away.

The topic’s easily dropped when Ben strolls up to him and asks him what’s for dinner due to the fact that Ian’s brain’s running a mile a minute, trying to come up with any other meal idea than toast.

 

**_Dean and Mickey_ **

It’s strangely quiet in the Gallagher-Milkovich (and reluctantly for the time being Winchester) household without Yevgeny there screaming over his cereal first thing in the morning. Dean groans and cracks his back; extended time sleeping on a pull-out sofa is doing nothing in the way of comfort.

‘I’m goin’ stir-crazy, man,’ Mickey groans, sliding his hands across the dining table. Dean thinks he might know why.

‘Well I ain’t gonna fuck you so you better just get used to it.’

‘Yeah, me ‘n Ian use the time Yev’s out of the house to fuck, is that a problem?’ Mickey bites out defensively. Dean just snorts into his coffee and then draws his eyes up to look at the other man.

‘Do you do anything aside from banging?’

‘Course we do, fuck head. You think we woulda lasted this long if it was just se-… Shit, wait, we probably would’ve.’

‘That good, huh?’ Dean asks sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He shouldn’t push finding out more about Mickey and Ian’s sex life because… he just doesn’t want to know. He’d _much_ prefer to be talking about he and Cas but that’s basically out of the question considering how pissed off Cas would be finding it broadcast across the nation. Mickey doesn’t seem to care, though.

‘Fuck yeah, man… Fuck. Yeah.’ He grins broadly as he brings his coffee mug up to his mouth. When he puts his cup back down, he seems to actually want to keep up a conversation topic with Dean. ‘Nah, we do other shit. Don’t fuckin’ picnic together or anything but we go out, talk ‘n stuff.’

‘A _dor_ able.’

‘Hell yeah, goin’ to a shooting range together is cute as fuck, right?’

Dean lets out a small laugh. ‘Cas and I do that actually.’

He’s happy that Mickey looks completely floored by this fact, but also a little annoyed that he still hasn’t picked up that, really, Dean’s a fucking badass… whilst also being a husband, father and mechanic. Ripping apart cars and re-building them is actually damn hardcore. And there’s _nothing_ soft about rescuing a three year old who’s just shoved several Legos down her throat.

‘You serious? You go out and shoot stuff?’

‘Hell yeah! I used to go hunting with my… Uncle Bobby before we got our business started up full time. And me ‘n my brother would always use his scrap yard to go practice shooting. Nearly joined the police force once.’

Mickey grimaces. ‘Cops are fucked, you got a lucky escape.’

Dean shrugs and gets up to put his mug in the sink. ‘Whatever. At least you get to shoot out in the open.’

‘Yeah, maybe on the South Side, man, you live in fuckin’ Pontiac, good luck gettin’ in a gun fight there.’ Mickey rolls his eyes at Dean and lets out a chuckle.

‘Okay, so maybe I over exaggerated gun usage. Still go out and shoot stuff with my husband though. It’s awesome.’ He can’t tell why Mickey’s got this sort of wistful smile on his face as he drinks the dregs of his coffee, but he’s quiet and Dean’s liking it a lot better than another wisecrack.

*

When the doorbell rings, Dean’s learned that Ian’s the one that would usually answer. So, with a prompting glare from Mickey who’s sat at the other end of the couch, Dean begrudgingly gets up to answer the door. It couldn’t have been Svetlana because Yevgeny’s school day wasn’t even over, so he’s a little apprehensive about opening the door to a stranger who’s most likely expecting Ian.

An older man with greasy hair, hidden partly by a hat, and an incredibly scruffy beard is what actually greets him. He’s clutching a beer can and a half smoked cigarette hangs out of the corner of his mouth, smoke wafting into Dean’s face.

'Ian! Jus' the man I wan...ted to see! You change your hair?'

Dean squints at the guy and the obvious slur in his voice. He must have been drinking something stronger on top of the beer if he didn’t recognise that, yeah, Dean’s not Ian. Mickey comes up behind him, and they’re both confused until Mickey’s eyes land on the man at the door.

'Jesus fucking Christ, Frank, the fuck you doin' here?'

Frank grins and slaps Mickey's shoulder, only for him to shrug him off.

'Mickey! I knew I could count on you t'help me. Do you... have a gun?'

Mickey glares and gestures at Frank trying to get him to shut up, but anyone who knows Frank Gallagher knows he can’t take a fucking hint. Dean just looks slightly amused, tracking the interaction. 'No, I don't have a fucking gun, get the hell outta here!'

'Nnnnmmmick, another thing... I... Fiona won’t let me- my own goddamn house! She won’t let me in, the lack of respect in my own fuc-king house is astounding. My own offspring turned against me after all I've done for them! Ungrateful fuckers. My seed _produced them_! They wouldn't even be _alive_ if it wasn't for me! And this is the thanks I get?!'

Mickey just rolls his eyes as if this is a completely normal occurrence, and Dean actually wouldn’t be surprised if it is. 'It’s not your fuckin' house, Frank. Look, we've not got any room here so just f- Ay!'

Frank pushes past Mickey and Dean, mumbling incoherently, and collapses onto the living room couch, promptly passing out. Mickey presses his fingers into his eye sockets tiredly while Dean gathers himself.

'Not again. Jesus Christ.'

'This happen often?'

'Yeah.'

Dean pushes for further explanation. 'And... Who is that guy exactly?'

'Ian's deadbeat, alcoholic dad... Well, not dad- actually, ya know what, shit's too complicated to explain to you right now.'

Mickey leaves Dean hastily, slamming his and Ian’s bedroom door shut behind him. Why is it that Dean always seems to be left alone and confused in this house?

*

‘Ah fuck,’ Dean hears from the kitchen. He decides to investigate, if only to help out the cameraman because he’s seriously not getting any good footage with Mickey avoiding Dean in general and the fact that half an hour ago Dean decided to go and lie down on his sofa bed. He’s been doing _nothing_. So Mickey’s cursing is a welcome distraction.

By the time he gets to the kitchen, Mickey’s already searching distractedly for something, an almost bored look on his face.

‘Everything okay?’ Dean ventures, squinting as his eyes follow Mickey.

Mickey barely glances at him before he starts grumbling out an answer. ‘Yev shoved a kid’s face in the drinking fountain again. Gotta go down to the school ‘cause fucking _Svetlana_ doesn’t wanna deal with it.’

‘Woah… Is he okay?’

Mickey pauses and scowls over at Dean like he’s some kind of idiot. ‘Yev’s fine.’

Dean rolls his eyes and leans against the refrigerator. He didn’t know fridges could groan, but Mickey’s is in response to Dean’s weight. ‘I meant the child who had his _head smashed against the drinking fountain_. Obviously.’

‘Well sorry I was more preoccupied with my own kid’s trauma.’

‘What trauma could he have _possibly_ suffered?’ Dean rubs at his eyes with the tips of his fingers and sighs.

Mickey shrugs and returns to the task of finding his house keys. ‘I dunno… Does it fuckin’ matter? Where the _fuck_ are the-‘ Dean dangles the keys in front of Mickey’s face silently and the shorter man just grumbles incoherently and snatches them.

‘I’m sorry, what was that? Was that a _thank you_?’ Dean asks smugly. Mickey just flips him off and then marches out of the room.

‘She’s alright, maybe bruised her nose or somethin’,’ Mickey calls before slamming the door shut behind him. Frank barely even flinches where he’s still crumpled on the sofa, out cold.

There’s a moment of silence before Dean looks directly into the camera, eyebrows raised. ‘ _She_?’

*

At some point, Frank had woken up and was nowhere to be seen. Dean’s glad, honestly, because if he’d started talking to Dean, he probably would have been a little scared considering how reminiscent the Gallagher patriarch had been of his own father in his later years. That’s not the kind of home life Dean really wants to be reminded of right now, much preferring thinking about Castiel, Ben, Emma and Claire. He sighs and there’s a tug in his chest because he really fucking misses them. He glances up at the clock and realises that right now he might have returned home for his lunch break just to see the kids and Cas, because he knows he doesn’t spend enough time with them once work’s finished – work always seems to follow him home as he takes on more and more responsibility at the auto shop.

He’s startled out of his train of thought when the front door bangs open, a cheerful Yevgeny and a contrastingly pissed off Mickey bustling into the lounge. Yev powers straight through to the kitchen where he begins rifling through the cupboards. Dean watches him with fascination before gradually making his way into the living room. Mickey’s face is hard but it’s probably left over from having to deal with teachers; Dean gets that problem-with-authority-figures vibe off him.

‘What happened?’

Mickey rolls his eyes and lets out a long breath. ‘Principal told him off, then told _me_ to fuckin’ discipline him… ‘You deal with him. Ian’s always better at this parenting shit,’ Mickey says gruffly, biting his thumb nail.

‘Look, I think you’ve overestimated my power over chil-‘ Dean stops midsentence as Mickey levels him with a cold glare. He shakes his head rapidly and then breathes out a small laugh. ‘Uh huh, I can- Hey, Yev?’

‘What?’ Yevgeny grunts, walking back into the room with a box of cereal, shoving handfuls of it into his mouth dry. He leaps up onto the sofa and stares at Dean, waiting for him to answer.

‘I heard about something bad happening at school today.’

Yev nods coolly and throws the cereal carton to the side, some of the contents spilling out onto the sofa cushions.

‘It’s your last day before summer break… Why’d you do this? It was a pretty silly thing to do.’

Yev shrugs and repeatedly kicks the sofa with his heel. ‘I dunno. Jenny was just pissin’ me off.’

Dean’s eyes widen and he switches his stare back and forth between Mickey and his son. ‘Right… What did she do, exactly?’

‘Said I couldn’t use her notebook to do m’drawings.’

‘Yeah, I don’t think that deserved a face to a drinking fountain, but, uh…’ Dean doesn’t know where he’s going with the sentence so just lets it die. Mickey looks so fucking gleeful at the fact that Dean can’t deal with him.  ‘I think we’re gonna have to punish you.’

Yev scrunches his eyebrows together and looks over at his father who’s still not intervening. _Any time you wanna jump in, Mickey_ , Dean’s inwardly grumbling to himself. ‘Why would you do that?’

‘Because what you did was really horrible.’

‘What is this, fuckin’ Supernanny?’ Mickey chimes in, finally, but it’s not exactly the kind of comment Dean had been hoping for. It’s like the other man set him up just so he could look like the good guy. ‘Give the kid a break, it’s not like he killed anyone. I was much worse when I was his age, trust me.’

‘You _told_ me to deal with it, so I’m dealing with it.’ Dean glares over at Mickey before turning back to Yevgeny who looks genuinely confused that Dean’s chastising him. ‘Look… I get it, okay? It sucks to be told off, but, dude… you’ve gotta know what you did was… completely crappy,’ Dean says, narrowly avoiding stronger cursing.  ‘So, because it happened because of your drawing… no drawing for like… a couple of days.’ Dean’s the queen of punishments. Well, to Yev he is because his mouth’s dropped open. It’s Mickey who objects, however.

‘Bullshit. You gonna limit Yev’s creative flow? Fuckin’. Bullshit.’

‘ _Creative flow_? Who the hell’re you, Bob Ross?’

Mickey tilts his head and narrows his eyes at Dean. ‘Yeah, don’t know who the fuck that is, but I’m assuming it’s not good.’

‘Son of a bitch,’ Dean mutters under his breath, turning back to Yevgeny who looks bewildered as fuck.  ‘You understand?’

Dean’s just going to take Yev’s outraged glare as a sign that yep, the little guy gets it… Actually, he’s not going to say that out loud; the Milkoviches already look about one syllable away from punching him in the mouth, so he’s not going to actively provoke them.


	6. Week 1, Day 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry I didn't post last week (and for this chapter being considerably shorter than normal) but some personal shit happened and, yeah, I really didn't feel like uploading anything.
> 
> Also, I'm worried my Supernatural characters aren't in character? I haven't watched the show in a couple of months now as I've kind of gone off it, so I'm a bit out of touch with the characters. But! I am going to clear the dust off my box set and do a whole Supernatural re-watch starting next week so hopefully I'll be able to get them back into character for the chapters I haven't already written.

**_Ian and Cas_ **

Cas seems a little gloomy that morning, numbly making the kids their breakfast. Ian frowns and is loosely reminded of when he was in his depressed state. Evidently, Cas is nowhere near as bad as Ian’s been before, it’s just such a stark contrast to Cas’ usual air of passion barely hidden beneath stoicism that Ian can’t help but draw small comparisons.

‘Hey, Cas, you need any help?’ Ian offers, sidling up beside him as he packs Ben’s lunch, eyeing him concernedly.

Castiel glances at him from the corner of his eye and slowly shakes his head. ‘I’ve got it. Ben, do you want the crusts cut off?’ he murmurs as he takes the bread out of Ian’s hands mechanically.

‘Nah,’ Ben replies, absently scrolling through his phone. Ian looks at any portable electrical device as an extra limb for Ben as he never seems to be without one.

‘So it’s your last day today? That’s gotta be exciting, right? My son finished up yesterday.’ It’s been a while since he’s had to make conversation with a teenager of Ben’s stage, so he’s a little out of practice, probably lacing his words too thickly with a patronising tone. His worries are soon confirmed when Ben looks up at him with an extremely pissed off glare.

‘So excited, hell yeah, no more school!’ Ben replies, face lifting with mock enthusiasm. Ian rolls his eyes at the same time as Ben’s face drops back to his usual scowl. ‘Mom’s probably picking me up, Cas, so I’ll be back around dinner.’

Ian picks up on Castiel’s little sad frown when Ben calls him ‘Cas’ instead of Dad and watches as he doesn’t comment on it, placing each of the twins in their highchairs one at a time routinely. ‘Okay, that’s fine. Just… call us when you get there.’

‘ _Us_?’

Castiel sighs and looks over Ian with a brief apologetic shrug on Ben’s behalf. ‘Never mind. Have fun today.’

‘Yep, bye,’ Ben calls out shortly before shouldering his backpack and striding out of the room. Ian sips at his coffee with a crease between his eyebrows.

‘Cas, are you sure you’re-‘

‘I am fine, Ian, do not worry about me,’ Castiel insists, and he even sounds a little angry. Ian’s used to feeling like that himself, so he backs off, sending a smile at Emma and Claire, because at least he knows how to act around children. With Castiel, he doesn’t _know_ him, not really, so he leaves him to sort out the gloom on his own until he’s willing to talk about it.

*

‘Hey, Cas seemed a bit… out of it this morning… Is that normal?’

Issy wipes the back of her hand across her forehead and drops the cap of the oil tank she’d just twisted off, letting out a long sigh. ‘Yeah. Probably just misses Dean – and _anyone_ would, have you seen that man’s arse? It’s legendary.’

Ian wrinkles his nose and squints at where the sun’s filtered in through the open garage door. ‘Hm… I guess so.’

Esme rolls out from under the car and frowns at Ian. It’s a really weird position and Ian’s pretty sure she’s lying on a skateboard, but she looks like she’s going to say something serious. ‘Aren’t you missing _your_ husband?’

‘Boyfriend,’ Ian quickly corrects, and it’s like a reflex which is kind of sad. He knows she used _husband_ because of their talk the other day, too. ‘And, yeah, of course I do.’

Esme holds out her hands in an obvious gesture. ‘Then there you go. Cas’ll be fine. It’s just that he sees Dean all the time when he gets back from work. Even when they don’t spend a lot of quality time together, he’s just always… there.’

Ian furrows his brows and kicks the heel of his work boot against the car he’s sitting on. ‘What do you mean they don’t spend quality time together?’

She lets out a sigh and gets up off the skateboard, brushing down her overalls. ‘You’ve been in the house with the family for five days.’

‘Have you ever really been left alone with just Cas?’ Issy asks, pulling her hair out of her ponytail and then tying it back up again.

Ian tilts his head back, thinking. ‘Not _really_. It’s always been with the kids. Or he’s in a rush…’

Again with Esme’s _there you go_ gesture. ‘Exactly. Don’t get me wrong, they’re _madly_ in love with each other-‘

‘Which is so painful for me to see.’

‘-Shut up, Issy, god,’ Esme mutters before continuing. ‘ _But_ they don’t have time for each other. Dean’s too busy running this place, and Cas is either promoting a new book, writing, or staying at home looking after the kids. And any other spare time is spent with Dean’s family.’

‘Dean’s fantastic with the kids,’ Issy defends.

‘Yeah, and he loves them like woah, but he’s wrapped up in work for a lot of the time.’

Ian presses his lips together. ‘Huh... We’ll probably have to work on that, then.’

Esme and Issy frown and look at each other, then back at Ian. ‘What do you mean?’

Ian rolls his eyes and continues to swing his legs back and forth. ‘Wife Swap rules?’

‘Ahh, yeah. That would be great,’ Issy says, nodding. She opens her mouth to add something else, when a man walks past and slaps her on the back, causing her to lurch forward slightly.

‘Issy, Esme, De-… Not Dean…’ The guys narrows his eyes and backtracks from where he’d intended to just keep on walking further into the shop. ‘Who’re you?’

‘That’s Ian, James. You forgot what’s going on this week already?’ Esme sighs, slapping James – ah, yeah, Dean’s ex…thing – around the back of the head. The only thing jumping out to Ian is how _tired_ James looks. He’s got bags under his dark eyes and his brown hair is a mess atop his head.

James snaps his fingers a few times, biting his bottom lip, clearly trying to recall what Ian’s (and the cameraman’s) presence meant. Light bulb. ‘Oh! Yeah! Dean’s off on that TV show thing isn’t he.’

‘You could probably take down an entire police force, but you can be dumb as hell sometimes,’ Cassie calls from the other garage. Ian hadn’t even properly met her yet, and apparently she was listening in to his conversations. Huh.

James makes a tutting noise and waves them off, even though the person who’d made the comment wasn’t even in the room. ‘Well, I gotta get to work, no matter who’s with me this week.’ James exhales wearily and trudges through to the next bay shouting: ‘ _Cass_ ie!’

‘ _Ian_! Get the hell off my car, boy!’ Bobby yells barely two seconds after James has disappeared out of view, and hell if that doesn’t scare the shit out of Ian. He’s never stood up faster.

*

When Ian wakes up, he knows she shouldn’t really be awake, because it’s still completely dark outside. He lets out a long sigh and rolls over, burrowing into Mickey and breathing in. After a bit of shifting around, Ian decides to try and fall back asleep.

The warmth of another body next to him is comforting until he realises there’s not _supposed_ to be one there.

‘What… the fuck?’ he mumbles groggily, shuffling backwards and blindly reaching for the bedside lamp. When the light comes on he sees that, yeah, the dude next to him has really dark hair but shit, that’s not _Mickey’s_ dark hair. ‘Cas?!’ he whisper yells, kicking the other man in the shin.

He stirs and slowly cracks his eyes open. Upon seeing Ian propped up on his elbows next to him, he jumps back, consequently falling off the bed. Ian scrambles to look over the edge, taking in a groaning Castiel sprawled out on the floor. Thank _Christ_ the cameras had packed up at the end of the day.

‘I thought you said you were fucking _joking_?!’ Ian’s still whisper shrieking, so as not to wake the kids but to still convey how damn freaked out he is over the situation.

‘I was! I was…’ Cas looks so shocked and confused, it’s hard for Ian to really be mad but _fuck_ the guy was in his bed!

Ian grips the edge of the mattress, still glaring down at Castiel’s barely clothed body – he was only wearing fucking boxers, the small blessing being that they were baggy, not showing Ian anything. The guy was attractive, but Ian adamantly _didn’t_ want to go there.

‘I sleep walk sometimes, when Dean’s not here and I… I suppose I thought you were him, that we had a fight and he went to the guestroom- I-‘

‘Hey, it’s fine, dude,’ Ian sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, still pretty sleepy and trying to figure out the situation. Cas apparently realises he’s still on the floor and rushes to stand up again.

‘I just miss him,’ he says quietly with a sad smile. Ian definitely feels bad for the guy now. He puts on a weak reassuring grin and shrugs.

‘I totally get it. I miss Mickey, too. It’s weird not being around him.’

Castiel nods before anxiously eyeing the slightly open door. ‘I… I better go. I’m so sorry for disturbing you.’

‘Honestly, don’t worry about it, I get it.’ Ian’s eyes follow him out and then he flops back against the mattress with a long exhale. It certainly explained Cas’ earlier mood, but Ian still feels a little odd after seeing Cas’ vulnerability.

He repositions himself on the bed and draws the covers back around him, pushing his thoughts away to deal with them in the morning and willing the ache of missing Mickey to pass.

 

**_Dean and Mickey_ **

‘Mandy’s comin’ over to look after Yev in like an hour,’ Mickey mumbles, obvious discomfort on his face. Dean’s leafing through the hefty collection of take-out menus when he glances over at Mickey.

‘Why does he need looking after? I thought I didn’t have a shift today.’

Mickey nibbles his bottom lip and Dean thinks he can almost see a bubble of blood coming through he’s biting them so hard. ‘Fridays me ‘n… me ‘n Ian go out.’

Dean’s grin is absolutely blinding. ‘Sorry, what was that?’

Mickey actually looks like he’s going to shatter his teeth he’s clenching them so hard, like it’s the most supremely difficult thing to have to repeat himself in the face of Dean’s thousand watt smile. ‘On Fridays we got this thing where we make time to fuckin’ go out together without the kid.’

‘Uh… so, like a date?’ Dean clarifies with a chuckle and Mickey looks like steam’s about to start spurting from his ears he’s so mortified. It’s strange, this severe reaction.

‘Yes, we’re going on a fucking date night!’ Mickey snaps, cheeks red. When he adds ‘Don’t get so fucking gay about it’, Dean stares over at him incredulously, putting down the menus and folding his arms.

‘Seriously?’

Mickey rolls his eyes and pushes off the counter, trudging out of the room. Dean breathes out a laugh and shakes his head before placing the laminated menus back under a fridge magnet. He’s kind of liking the prospect of not eating Chinese for once.

*

Dean honestly can’t believe it’s taken them this long to get their shit together and get another cameraman on the scene, but here he is, all 5’6 curly haired teenager who’s quite obviously an intern.

‘So Wendell will probably be taking you aside at some point and will ask you a few prompting questions, get you talking about your experience so far,’ the original cameraman tells both Dean and Mickey as they wait for Mandy’s arrival, nodding along as he talks in that (in Dean’s opinion) douche-y kinda way.

‘Sure,’ Dean replies with a shrug, but he still spares an uneasy glance at the new guy – _Wendell_ Jesus Christ. He looks like he doesn’t give a shit, even more so than the other dude, but whatever. He won’t have to deal with him for too long, he assumes. At least now they can get the absolutely riveting _golden_ footage of Mickey sitting down doing nothing whilst Dean’s out doing _jogging_ and Ian’s errands…

‘Gotta take a piss,’ Mickey announces when everyone’s finished talking. The cameramen sigh as he gets up and then nod before going over to the dining room table to place down their cameras and wait.

‘Hey, assface!’

Dean whips his head around as the front door slams shut. Yes, this is quite clearly Mickey’s sister. If her matching blue eyes and dark hair weren’t enough of an indication, her over all manner is definite confirmation. She swaggers in and doesn’t even look Dean’s way as she moves into the kitchen, immediately rifling through her brother’s fridge.

‘Hey, I’m Dean,’ he says, watching Mandy’s back as she pulls out various items of food.

‘Good for you.’

Dean frowns and glances around the kitchen, looking for _some_ topic of conversation. Salt shakers and old pizza boxes aren’t exactly fantastic sources of discussion, however, so he’s having real trouble.

When Mandy turns around, she assesses Dean with a once over. ‘So… You’re wearing _that_?’

He raises his eyebrows and looks down at himself. Jeans, black Metallica tee and a burgundy unbuttoned over shirt… His usual, basically. ‘Uh, yeah. What’s wrong with it?’

Mandy snorts and moves across the kitchen to open the plate cabinet. ‘Just… You don’t look like you’re going on a date.’

Dean scratches the back of his neck. ‘Mickey’s not _my_ boyfriend. I don’t have to Paris Hilton myself for him.’

‘Yeah, I got that, my ginger freak of a best friend is his boyfriend, but you’re being him for the week, right?’

‘…Yeah,’ Dean reluctantly replies, fiddling with his wedding ring and wishing he wasn’t talking to a dude’s sister about going on a date with her brother. It’s not even a fucking real date, it’s _mandatory_. It makes him feel pretty gross, as well. He has to remind himself that he’s doing all this to better his and Cas’ relationship, though it’s a struggle when part of the bettering is testing out a date night with another guy.

Mandy shrugs over-exaggeratedly and puts two plates down on the counter and then brushes her fringe out of her eyes. ‘ _So_ , you gotta play the part.’

Dean wrinkles his nose. ‘Feels kinda wrong, though.’

‘You signed up for this shit.’

‘ _Yeah_ , but I was kind of going through a breakdown,’ Dean grumbles.

Mandy gives him a weird look and starts turning knobs on the stove. ‘I’m not your fucking therapist. I don’t give a shit why you signed up for it.’

‘Look, last time I saw him, Mickey was dressed in a damn tank top and sweats, ‘kay? Don’t get why I have to make myself pretty.’

Mandy scoffs and shakes her head before looking at something over Dean’s shoulder. She looks slightly pissed. ‘Mickey, what the hell? I just told this asshole off for not dressing up.’

‘We’re goin’ to the fuckin’ Alibi, not the Ritz. Jesus, I look fine.’

As Mickey slogs past him, Dean takes into account that, sure, he’s changed, but now he’s wearing _jeans_ and the same tank top. Dean titters and leans back against the wall, watching as Mickey switches the oven back off, much to Mandy’s annoyance.

‘You can just order somethin’ in, he doesn’t need you to cook him a full on meal, Mandy.’ Suddenly, Mickey _really_ pays attention to Dean and his attire. ‘She’s right; you do look like shit.’

‘Aw, you’re just sayin’ that,’ Dean says bashfully. His humour really seems to piss Mickey off, and it’s kind of a good thing, because the other man’s just intent on being unpleasant towards him.

Mickey just ignores him this time, addressing Mandy instead. ‘You gonna be okay tonight? You’re not gonna ditch him to get stoned again, are you?’

Mandy rolls her eyes and Dean’s a little freaked out that Mickey’s sister still hasn’t grown out of the ‘pot is the highest priority’ stage. He’s been there, but thankfully he’s not _still_ there. ‘Fuck off, Mick, ‘course everything’s gonna be fine. He loves me, and I don’t have any other engagements.’

‘Yeah, that’s what you said last time, bitch,’ Mickey grumbles, grabbing his phone off the side and shoving it in his jeans pocket. ‘Alright, we’re leaving. _Yev_!’

Almost instantly there’s the sound of Yevgeny running through the house to get to the kitchen. He’s still filled with hatred towards Dean, of course, so he practically mows him down as he passes. Dean’s used to this kind of treatment from Ben but in a slightly more passive aggressive format, so it doesn’t faze him too much.

‘Auntie Mandy!’

‘I’m gonna throw up if I watch this fuckin’ reunion, c’mon,’ Mickey urges, barely shouting a goodbye over his shoulder to his son and sister as he leads Dean out of the house.

*

The sun’s shining still, but slowly sinking in the sky as the night begins. Dean’s looking forward to see where the evening will head and where Mickey’s taking him. He really hopes it’s not going to be awkward though, it could be a real chance to get to know Mickey a little more and what he’s _really_ like. He’s seen rare glimpses of him being affectionate, so he knows he’s not actually an asshole _all_ the time.

‘Don’t make any dumbass comments, okay?’ is all Mickey says before throwing open the door to a bar Dean probably wouldn’t have noticed had he been on his own.

The first thing he’s hit with is the drunken noise. It feels like he’s back at The Roadhouse, simply because he can tell all of the patrons are regulars, slumped over the bar or in booths.

A tall man behind the bar looks up as they both take a seat at the counter and he immediately lifts his eyebrows, a slow grin spreading across his face as he throws a dishtowel over his shoulder. ‘Hey, Mickey, who’s this? You sure got over Ian quick.’

‘Fuck off, Kev, you know what this is,’ Mickey grumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

‘Well yeah, since there’s a fuckin’ camera following you around and considering I don’t think the cops are bothering this much with monitoring your sorry ass, I’m guessing it’s Wife Swap week.’

‘Two beers,’ Mickey orders, blanking the other man. Kev rolls his eyes and leans towards Dean over the bar.

‘This is the kinda crap I get from my busine-‘

‘Ay! Shut the fuck up!’ Mickey quickly cuts in, sending a death glare Kev’s way. Kev raises his eyebrows and backs off, lifting his arms up in surrender, but Dean can tell he’s amused. Before Mickey can (probably) tell Kevin to go fuck himself, a loud voice erupts into the bar, accompanied by the door swinging open.

‘Hey, babe!’

‘My babies!’ Kev cries, surging forward and planting a kiss on each of her breasts.

‘This is the eighth time he’s used that excuse to kiss my boobs in public,’ she deadpans at Dean who simply laughs and sticks out his hand for her to shake. A slow smile spreads across her lips like she’s entertained by Dean’s greeting as she takes his hand.

‘Hey, I’m Dean.’

‘Veronica – or V – pleased to meet you.’ She looks up at Kev. ‘This boy’s got manners.’

‘I’m actually _all man_ ,’ Dean replies, wiggling his eyebrows and grinning.

‘You broke rule one,’ Mickey hisses, rubbing at his temples. When he looks back up he lets out a long groan. ‘Fucking _Frank’s_ here? Kev, why the fuck isn’t he barred?’

Dean follows Mickey’s glare to where Frank Gallagher – no less sober than their last encounter – is stumbling out of the toilets with his zipper open. After flipping off the entire bar, he collapses into a booth and basically passes out. Kev watches him whilst shaking his head slowly.

‘I don’t even understand how he’s still alive. Anyway, you know he won’t listen to me if I tell him to fuck off, so I’m just waiting ‘til he kicks it. Can’t be too long, right?’

Mickey just rolls his eyes and leans over the bar to grab a liquor bottle and pour himself a shot. Kev doesn’t even bother stopping him.

‘That’s coming out of your pay ch-’

‘I don’t give a fuck. You want one?’ Mickey offers the bottle to Dean and, shit, if it’s alcohol, he’ll drink it. It’s not exactly the good stuff, but it’ll do.

‘Sure, thanks. You’re buying?’

Mickey smiles tightly at Dean and sighs. ‘I guess I am, Fake Ian.’ Dean beams and knocks back a shot as soon as Mickey hands it to him. ‘Slow down, I ain’t made of money; I’m cappin’ you at a certain point.’

Dean shrugs and slams the shot glass back on the bar. Veronica just looks mildly surprised at his enthusiasm and then grins as she gives him a refill, snatching the bottle out of Mickey’s hand. ‘You missin’ your…’

‘Husband. Yeah, I am,’ Dean replies with a soft smile. Mickey looks like he’s about to dry heave at the tenderness of the look but covers it up by taking a shot. Dean’s eager to flip it back around on Mickey. ‘So you and Ian go romance each other every Friday… That’s pretty nice, actually. Sweet.’

‘Fuck off, Dean, it’s not like we eat at fancy fucking restaurants with mood lighting and fifty knives and forks per person or whatever.’

‘You need me to make it more romantic in here? I could get a candle,’ Kev butts in with a smirk. V nudges him but lets out a short cackle at Mickey’s expression. And, yeah, Dean grins because likes how Kev and V rib Mickey. But somewhere along the line, their chatter fades out to Dean’s and he’s left with Cas on his mind, how it would be amazing to spend more time with him. Something tells him he’s not going to be too pissed off at the new rules when he returns home.

**Author's Note:**

> I realise there's another Gallavich Wife Swap fic out there but I only noticed it recently and I started writing this in like... June woah


End file.
